


Blood Moon

by BiconBane



Series: World Burnt To Ashes [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Character Tags To Be Added - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, For what? All of season 2, M/M, Relationship Tags to Be Added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-10-06 09:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiconBane/pseuds/BiconBane
Summary: Before Luke can really settle into his role as alpha of the New York pack, Valentine mounts brutal and deadly attacks on the werewolves. Pack members Maia and Gretel struggle with the violent present as well as their own dark pasts, and more than one Shadowhunter learns some important lessons. Meanwhile, Luke struggles with his place in one part of his family while trying to keep the other part alive, and turns to Magnus for support.





	1. Chapter 1

Gretel threaded her fingers through Maia’s curls. They were messy and flattened, and if it had been any other day, Maia would have deemed it utterly unacceptable for anyone but Gretel to see her hair like that. She would carefully do her hair until Gretel stole the comb right from her hand with a soft kiss on her shoulder and take over doing the job for her.

 

When they first met, Gretel had been jealous of Maia’s hair. Part of her still was. She’d had hair like that once, long ago. Long ago, before endless death and suffering. Before she was pulled out of bed in the middle of the night, fear sending her heart pumping like she had run 100 miles, and loss creeping up every vein in her body.

 

The scent of blood was still stuck in her nose. The Jade Wolf had been cleaned; they had worked all night to make it so. But Gretel’s nose was sharp and though she wasn’t sure if the smell of blood actually lingered in the restaurant, or if it was just a phantom scent, it was still there. A physical reminder to go with the ache she felt in her chest.

 

Maia had been crying the entire time they had cleaned the bodies and mopped up the blood. It had been silent, and only shaking hands had gone with the tears that steadily streamed down her face, but they were still there. Alaric’s face had been utterly blank. He had looked dazed, lost, like he couldn’t believe the death even though he had already seen so much of it.

 

Gretel… Gretel wasn’t sure what she had felt. The anger that she was so careful to keep burning bright inside her (though not enough to burn  _ her _ ,  _ never her _ ), it was flagging and failing. It had felt like someone punched a hole in her chest. Gone was that anger, gone was the hatred and bitterness. It left a pit that swallowed every emotion she thought she could conjurer.

 

Well, Gretel thought as she looked down at Maia. Maybe except one.

 

When the blood was cleaned up, and the bodies moved to their final resting place, Maia had slid into one of the booths and pulled Gretel down into a hug. Her singular, heartbreaking sob rocked both of their bodies and there they stayed, clinging to each other for longer than Gretel could remember.

 

Eventually, Maia had pulled away, though she kept one of their hands tightly intertwined. She had rested her elbow on the table and her head on her hand. Her body pressed close to Gretel’s, her hand holding hers. Tear tracks on her face, deep, dark bags under eyes that were hard like obsidian. Jaw clenched, she stared at the door to the Jade Wolf, like she was daring,  _ threatening _ any enemy to walk through it right then and there.

 

How long they kept that vigil, Maia watching the door and Gretel unable to take her eyes off Maia, Gretel didn’t know. But eventually, her beautiful, powerful, gentle warrior fell asleep. She had slumped over, and Gretel stopped her head from hitting the table. Carefully, she laid Maia in a more comfortable position, and with a deep breath, one hand in Maia’s hair, and the other clutching her hand in a death grip, took up her watch.

 

Gretel didn’t know how long she sat there, waiting for something unknown and listening to Maia’s soft, slow breathing, but by the time the door finally opened, the sun was beginning to rise in the sky.

 

There were very few people, Gretel thought, that could have walked through that door right then and not have sent her skittering out of her chair, her green eyes flashing and sharp, pointed teeth erupting out of her gums. One of those people was snoring softly beside her. Another, thankfully, was walking through the door right then.

 

Exhaustion wasn’t something Gretel usually associated with Magnus Bane; sometimes, he seemed forever vibrant, forever beautiful. Like a statue or a god, too powerful to touch. But on rare occasions, Gretel was allowed to see this side of him.

 

Make-up gone. Hair colorless and flat. Jewelry sparse; indeed, there was only one plain ring that caught some of the morning light on its place on Magnus’ thumb. The clothes he wore were some of the darkest she had ever seen, and some of the plainest. Deep, dark circles hung heavy under his eyes and his face was drawn and pale.

 

Wordlessly, he slid into the booth, sitting across from Gretel and the still sleeping Maia. Maia twitched in her sleep, but only let out a sigh. That, Gretel knew, was Magnus’ influence; both the new scent and the sounds Magnus had made should have been enough to throw Maia out of her sleep as on edge as she still was. But Magnus was nothing if not trustworthy. Instead of putting them on edge, Magnus calmed them both.

 

Gretel knew what Magnus could do. Not all of it, of course… she doubted that anyone knew the true extent of Magnus’ powers. But she had seen him in action before, seen the devastation he could bring to his enemies. And, perhaps more importantly, she had also seen the sheer good-hearted kindness he could then turn onto his friends.

 

What was most important, though, at least for now, was that Gretel had not only seen Magnus fight, but she had heard the rumors. She had heard tales of Magnus and Valentine meeting in battle, of Magnus not only surviving, but of Valentine  _ running _ from him. And after seeing the wounds on the lifeless bodies of her packmates, those wounds that not only brought up so much grief and sadness and just sheer helplessness, but also memories Gretel tried to keep buried deep… well. It was comforting to have Magnus, power, rumors, and all, by her side.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered. Gretel wanted to regret the words as soon as they left her mouth, but she found she couldn’t. She was just so grateful to have a protector, one that could watch over  _ her _ as she watched over all that she held dear.

 

Magnus appraised her with those tired, tired eyes. A frown pulled at the side of his lips and for one dreadful second Gretel thought he would tell her not to thank him.

 

“You’re welcome,” Magnus said instead and Gretel felt a weight wiggle loose from her chest. For the first time, her eyes burned.

 

Instantly, she lowered her head to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. Her hand spasmed around Maia’s and her other hand shifted on Maia’s head as the other woman moved. It was silent for only a few moments during which Gretel couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes again and face the world.

 

“May I?” Magnus asked softly.

 

Gretel opened her eyes. Magnus’ hand hovered halfway above the table, stretched out just the slightest bit over its flat surface.

 

Before she could stop it, or even truly realize was happening really, a smile tugged at her lips. She forced it away instantly, a faint sense of shame stirring in her gut that she would smile at a time like this, but. That little question. Everytime, without fail.

 

“You know the answer will always be yes,” Gretel said.

 

Magnus leaned forward and brushed a piece of her long, silver hair behind her ear. In the weak, early morning sunlight, it almost looked blonde. For less than a second, Gretel wished she could pretend it was.

 

“You know I will always ask,” Magnus said. He cupped her cheek gently and Gretel leaned into that, so like how she had leaned into Maia’s shaking, sobbing body hours ago. Comfort, Gretel had come to know, was always different, and yet always so similar.

 

“Can -- Can you tell me this won’t happen again?” Gretel asked.

 

Yet another thing she hadn’t meant to do. Regret bloomed in her chest instantly and she opened her mouth to apologize. But a look that on most other beings in this universe would have made her shy away, eyes tired, but hard as obsidian. Anger, hatred, condensed into power.

 

“I can’t,” Magnus said, and though his eyes were deadly, both his voice and grip remained as soft and light as a feather. “Not yet.”

 

The day moved on. The sky continued to lighten. Maia kept sleeping. Gretel and Magnus didn’t speak much, but when they did, it was in whispers. Gretel kept her eyes on that door, but Magnus sat with his back to it. He was tired, angry, but relaxed, as relaxed as one could be anyways. His hand, soft, gentle, delicate, beautiful, and containing more power than Gretel could know or would ever comprehend, sat on the table. And Gretel felt safe.

 

Luke returned to the Jade Wolf, more of her pack members at his heels. Grief and burying the body was what had kept them away. Alaric and some of the others who had stayed behind greeted them, and while they did Luke’s eyes slid to Gretel’s. And Gretel felt safe.

 

Magnus stood and made his way over to Luke. Quietly, in a voice that wouldn’t carry even with all these enhanced ears around, Magnus spoke with them. Beside her, Maia stirred. She lifted her head from the table and Gretel’s hand that had stayed tangled in her hair fell slowly back down beside them.

 

Maia’s eyes darted around the Jade Wolf. She took in their pack, their alpha, Magnus, but she didn’t say a word. Her search ended on Gretel and her gaze reminded Gretel of Magnus’. Eyes angry and full of burning hatred. But she too, reached out. She too pressed a hand to Gretel’s cheek. Maia, though, chased her hand with a kiss she pressed on Gretel’s forehead.

 

The scent of blood was still stuck in Gretel’s nose. The sight of the bodies, of the wounds ripped into their skin, lingered in her mind’s eye. The door that she had spent so long watching, it was there, in the corner of Gretel’s eye. Beyond it, there was horror and death and other things that made Gretel want to curl up and hide away forever.

 

But for now, as her girlfriend pulled her close once again, Gretel felt safe.


	2. Chapter 2

Exhaustion was a slow moving poison. It crept across muscles and through veins. Blurred vision and dulled the senses. It ate away at the mind and body until all one could do was collapse or die. True exhaustion wasn’t always about lack of sleep. What also factored in was weariness of the mind and body. And right now, Luke’s mind and body felt very weary indeed.

 

Loss tugged at his head and his heart. Fear beat its way through his bones. And anger roared in his chest, howling right along with the wolf that thrashed inside.

 

Alaric had spread a map out on the table. Huddled in the corner, away from the Mundanes that had started wandering into the Jade Wolf for lunch, he and Luke had started to map out the places frequented by their pack, places where Valentine could strike next. Gretel and Maia hovered over their shoulders, committing the map to memory.

 

Magnus had gone a few hours ago with parting hugs from Gretel and Maia, a smile for Alaric, a strong, sure squeeze on Luke’s shoulder, and a promise he would be back as soon as his schedule allowed. The rest of the pack had wandered off for some much needed rest. Jumpy and unsure, they had all gone in groups of three or more. Some had turned up back at the Jade Wolf far too soon for them to actually have been rested, but Luke couldn’t begrudge them. Reliving tragedy in the form of nightmares was a horrible burden to bare, and he wouldn’t force it on them until he knew he could help them carry the weight.

 

Part of Luke desperately longed for a soft, warm bed, for sleep to ease some of the exhaustion that weighed his shoulders down, but he could not, would not act on that wish until his pack was safer. Not safe, for they could never be in these times, but at least  _ safer _ .

 

“We’re going to be stretched so thin,” Gretel said, her lips thinning as she took in the map. “Protecting everyone… it’ll be hard.”

 

“Maybe we can call some of the pack back from their outstretched homes,” Alaric said. “It’ll make them easy to protect.”

 

“But then we’d have to find somewhere for them to live,” Maia said. “Somewhere that’s not just lining them up for that Shadowhunter to slaughter.”

 

“We’ll figure something out,” Luke said. “We have to.”

 

Maia’s hand curled into a fist. “This is shit,” she said. Luke wondered if she realized her voice wasn’t louder than a whisper. 

 

Gretel shook her head. “This is so shit,” she said. “We can’t do this by ourselves.”

 

“I’m no fan of the vampires,” Alaric said. “But do you think the other Downworlders would help us?”

 

Luke shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said. “Even if they were open to it, they might not be able to spare the people. They have internal conflicts going on right now.”

 

“Magnus will help us,” Gretel said surely. She leaned back in the booth and shrugged her shoulders. “We can’t count on the rest of the Downworld.”

 

“I need some air,” Maia said, shoving away from the table with enough strength to send it rocking. She was gone in the blink of an eye, but still not before Gretel was able to get up and follow at her heels.

 

Luke glanced back at Alaric and was pleased to note the small smile on his face, despite the less than fortunate times. Maia and Gretel had both had trouble when they had come to the pack. The instant Maia had confessed her feelings for Gretel to Luke, he had known they would be the best thing for each other.

 

And they were. Luke couldn’t think of another couple so in sync with each other. He and Jocelyn certainly weren’t that.

 

“They’re good,” Alaric said softly.

 

He didn’t say more, but he didn’t have to. He could have meant they were good fighters, good together, good kids… it was all true and it didn’t matter. They were  _ good _ . It was  _ good _ to look to them and see that what they were could weather even the most dire of times.

 

Luke turned his attention back to the map and found that some of the bone numbing exhaustion that had settled over his body the night before had lifted. 

 

The bell above the front door rang as a Mundane pushed it open. The faint breeze that wafted in brought with it a scent that made Luke’s eyes glow bright green. Not a second later, a loud growl broke the air.

 

Luke was halfway to the door in the blink of an eye. “Call Magnus!” he shouted back to Alaric. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his second already had his phone to his ear.

 

Maia and Gretel stood shoulder to shoulder, a barricade against those they were facing and the Jade Wolf. Gretel’s lip was curled up in a snarl and Maia’s eyes glowed a sustained green. Together, they faced down a pair of Shadowhunters.

 

Alec and Clary.

 

“Hang on,” Luke said quickly, placing a gentle hand on Maia’s shoulder. “They’re with the Institute.”

 

“We  _ know _ ,” Gretel snapped. “That doesn’t mean they can just demand to walk into our  _ home _ .”

 

Luke cast a glance over to the pair of Shadowhunters. Alec was standing with his arms crossed and his mouth pulled down. Luke could nearly smell the irritation coming off him. Clary looked far more nervous, her eyes darting back and forth between Maia and Gretel.

 

“Alec,” Luke said. “What are you doing here?”

 

“The Institute Head,” Alec said with a slight roll of his eyes, “sent me as an envoy to the werewolves in light of the recent Circle attack. Clary was ordered to go along to learn diplomacy.”

 

“We’re not letting  _ them _ in,” Maia said. “After what they’ve done -- ”

 

“Look,” Clary said loudly. “I know my father is responsible for this but that doesn’t mean I -- ”

 

“Not everything is about you,  _ princess _ ,” Gretel said as she tilted her head back. “ _ My _ problem’s with him,” she jabbed a finger at Alec.

 

Alec blinked a few times and Luke winced. “Me?” Alec asked. “What -- ”

 

A conversation Luke was, thankfully, spared from having by the sound of an opening portal. Magnus stepped out with an easy that Luke was certainly not feeling. He took in the tense environment with a casual turn of his head and his lips turned upwards in one of his disarming smiles.

 

“Lovely to see you all again so soon,” Magnus said cheerfully as he made his way over to stand somewhere in the middle of the Shadowhunters and Werewolves. If Luke didn’t know him so well, he would have sent him running with his metaphorical tail between his legs. 

 

Alec uncrossed his arms and his frown turned to one of confusion rather than annoyance. “Magnus?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Magnus!” Gretel said. “ _ Please _ explain that these Shadowhunters have to go.”

 

“They’re just not listening,” Maia agreed with a snarl.

 

“You know them?” Clary asked.

 

“I need everyone to back off and calm down,” Magnus said. His voice was still light, but one would have to be a fool to not notice the steel that had crept into it. “And,” he said as he turned to the Shadowhunters, “I’ll need these.”

 

Pale blue magic swept over the Shadowhunters and clung to Alec’s shoulder and Clary’s thigh. Despite himself, Luke felt a growl rumble in his chest. He knew all too well the way it looked when magic pulled a glamor into everyone’s eyesight.

 

Magnus’ magic yanked Alec’s bow and quiver into sight along with Clary’s thigh holster. Maia and Gretel both let out indigent and loud snarls and behind him, Luke heard another, slightly softer growl.

 

“That explains why my skin and nose are itching,” Alaric said quietly, from just behind Luke’s shoulder.

 

“Werewolves might not be able to see through strong glamors like I can,” Magnus said conversationally, “but they certainly can tell when angel touched weapons are in their presence.”

 

Luke stepped forward. “Bringing weapons used to kill us to a diplomatic meeting isn’t the best way to go about this,” he said as he stared the two Shadowhunters down.

 

Clary’s cheeks had warmed to about match the color of her hair and even Alec looked chagrined. On the other hand, Gretel looked almost smug.

 

“Untrustworthy,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m shocked, truly.”

 

“Easy,” Magnus said. “I’m sure we can come up with a solution that works for everyone.”

 

“You can’t be serious, Magnus!” Maia said. “After everything they’ve done, after everything that’s been done to us, we can’t just welcome them  _ here _ of all places.”

 

Magnus eased forward and placed a hand on Maia’s shoulders. He dipped his head to look into her eyes, “trust me, sweetheart,” he said.

 

Maia bit her lip and looked away.

 

“Magnus,” Luke said. The Warlock glanced over it at him and he tilted his head, a silent request for Magnus to speak with him and him alone. With a glance over his shoulder at the tense sides, Magnus made his way to Luke’s side.

 

“This might be hard for you to hear,” Luke said quietly when Magnus reached him. “But I can’t let Alec in the Jade Wolf. No matter your feelings for him, or mine about him, after what he’s done…”

 

“I understand, Luke,” Magnus replied. “I’ll tell him myself and I’ll do all I can to prevent that from happening. However, I don’t think I can stop the Institute from sending  _ some _ diplomat here. You know how Shadowhunters are.”

 

“Yeah,” Luke said, and he glanced back over to Clary. “I know.”

 

Magnus left his side to head back towards the tense group of Shadowhunters and Werewolves but Luke’s attention stayed on Clary. The bright sun turned her hair a paler red than it was in darker light, paler than her mother’s red hair.

 

More days than Luke would have liked had past since he had last seen Clary or Jocelyn. Disagreements aside, Luke loved them both and they carried just as large a part in his heart as his pack did. But death loomed like a dark shadow over his pack. However much they fought against him, Valentine would do all he could to spare the lives of his daughter and former wife. Maia, Gretel, Alaric, his pack, himself, now… they did not have that luxury.

 

It had been twenty years since Luke had last been forced to choose between people he loved. He could only hope that choice would not sit on his shoulders yet again.


	3. Chapter 3

Magnus followed Alec and Clary down the halls of the Institute. While he could feel the stares of the Shadowhunters he passed, none more obvious than Clary’s herself, and none smarted more than Alec’s refusal to glance over to him.

 

He wasn’t sure if Alec was doing it on purpose or not, but still, Magnus worried. He wasn’t naive enough to think that their jobs would never create a rift between Alec and himself, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

 

Alec rapped firmly on Aldertree’s door and promptly opened it at Aldertree’s welcome. The Clave envoy was sitting at his desk, scribbling on several papers spread out in front of him. When he glanced up, a look of mild surprise crossed his face.

 

“Mr. Lightwood and Ms. Fray,” Aldertree said, setting his pen down. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon. And with unexpected guests, no less.”

 

“There was trouble with the pack,” Alec said. “Magnus came back here to discuss it with you.”

 

Alec’s hands were folded behind his back and his hazel eyes were distant. Magnus would have liked to pull him aside, to apologize for what was about to happen, what he would have to do.

 

“Envoy Aldertree,” Magnus said, stepping forward with a polite smile. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Catarina tells me you are interested in the healing arts?”

 

“The pleasure is mine, High Warlock Bane,” Aldertree said as he rose from his desk and approached him. “And yes, I am. Before I was a diplomat, I was a field medic. I’ve studied your work, and Catarina’s as well. I wish the field medics were capable of half of what you and she can do.” He held out his hand.

 

Magnus grasped it graciously and took Aldertree’s invitation to sit when it was offered. “She, more than me, I’d think,” Magnus said. “ _ I _ wish to be capable of half of what she can do.”

 

“You’re being modest,” Aldertree said, as he took his seat again. “I know you’ve trained Catarina yourself.”

 

“Oh, no,” Magnus said, shaking his head. “I am not modest about my skills; I know how powerful I am. It’s simply that Catarina is a far more excellent healer than I. Very much the student has surpassed the master situation.”

 

“Her abilities must be truly impressive then,” Aldertree said.

 

“That they are,” Magnus replied. “But that, as I’m sure you know, is not why I’m here.”

 

“Of course,” Aldertree said. “But, unfortunately, I do not believe this can be open to discussion. I have orders and those orders are to send a Shadowhunter to the Jade Wolf to monitor and protect the New York pack after the recent attacks by the Circle.”

 

“I understand that,” Magnus said. “And so does the pack leader, Luke Garroway. It is not so much the Shadowhunter envoy as it is the choices you’ve made as to who will fill that position.”

 

Aldertree leaned back in his chair and stabled his fingers together. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m afraid after the recent attacks, the Werewolves are unlikely to trust many Shadowhunters,” Magnus said.

 

“They assume all of us in this Institute are working with the Circle?” Aldertree asked.   
  


“They  _ know _ some in this Institute have worked with Valentine before,” Magnus said. “And they have just suffered a tragedy. The choices you have made to oversee a diplomatic haven’t gone far in rebuilding trust.”

 

“I know Clary Fray has strong familial ties to the Circle,” Aldertree said. “But she has never acted upon them. The Werewolves do not have reason to distrust her.”

 

“I’m afraid we disagree on that,” Magnus said. Behind him, Clary sucked in a loud breath. “However, some of the pack are more concerned with the choice of Alec Lightwood.”

 

Aldertree blinked in surprise and leaned back over his desk. “And why would that be?”

 

And, this… it was the part of the negotiation Magnus had dreaded the most. He buried the desire to sigh before he said, “he has displayed aggression against Downworlders in the past.”

 

Aldertree’s eyes shot up to somewhere behind Magnus’ shoulder and he knew without looking that he was looking at Alec. “Really?” he asked. “I would have thought it would be quite the opposite.”

 

“In particular,” Magnus said slowly, “there was the situation with the Seelie Knight, Meliorn.”

 

Magnus didn’t know how he did it, but he resisted looking back over his shoulder towards Alec. He did, though, hear Clary’s gasp and he watched as Aldertree rested his forearms against his desk.

 

“Ah,” Aldertree said. “Yes, that unfortunate situation. I can see how that would cause a discrepancy in the trust between Mr. Lightwood and our Downworld friends.”

 

“Yes,” Magnus said. “And while the New York pack understands the need for a Shadowhunter envoy, they do ask that you reconsider who is actually sent.”

 

Aldertree leaned back once more in his chair, his right pointer finger tapping a slow, thoughtful rhythm on his left wrist. Magnus felt his stomach swoop and he frowned. He hadn’t felt this nervous in a negotiation in centuries, and most of it had to do with the man standing behind him.

 

“Very well,” Aldertree said, finally. “I’ll grant the pack’s request for a new envoy. They will arrive by mid-morning at the Jade Wolf tomorrow.”

 

Magnus stood and stretched out a hand. “Thank you, Envoy Aldertree,” he said. “I’m glad we were able to come to an accord on this.”

 

Aldertree, too, rose from his seat. “As am I, High Warlock Bane,” he said, grasping his hand with a warm smile that actually made Magnus believe him. “But I’ve been told you have a busy schedule,” he said as he pulled away and headed to the door of his office. “I’ll let you get back to work. And you two,” he said, with a nod at Clary and Alec, “you’re dismissed as well.”

 

Magnus nodded at him and squared his shoulders as he exited the office first. He ducked out of Aldertree’s line of sight and waited for his Alec to come out.

 

Clary slipped out of the office first. When she caught sight of him, a small, trembling smile seemed to be all she could muster. Magnus returned with a kinder smile and hid any exasperation he might have felt stirring in his chest.

 

Alec took longer to step out of the office. He looked distant, perhaps a little stunned when he did, his gaze set far away and his hands clasp behind his back. Magnus reached out and let his fingers trail gently, briefly, over the other man’s arm.

 

Blinking several times, Alec looked over him. Faint surprise reflected in his hazel eyes and this time, Magnus had to hide a frown.

 

Alec’s mouth dropped open slightly, words he didn’t have waiting and wanting to come out. Instead, Magnus spoke.

 

“Do you have some time right now, Alexander?” he asked. “I’d like to -- ”

 

“Yeah,” Alec said quickly. “Yeah, I’m free.”

 

Alec remained silent as he followed Magnus out of the Institute and through the portal to his lair. He lingered uncomfortably on the edges of the room as Magnus poured them some drinks and placed one in Alec’s hand.

 

Magnus sighed, loudly, as he sank into his comfortable sofa and was overcome with the great urge to nap. “Alec,” he said. “I’m sorry about what happened in that meeting. I  _ wish _ I had the time to inform you what I was going to say first, but -- ”

 

“No, I,” Alec cut him off again, briefly meeting Magnus’ gaze before his eyes slid down so he addressed the arm of the couch. “I understand. You were just doing your job.”

 

“Yes, that’s true,” Magnus said. He took a sip of his drink and waited.

 

Alec glanced at him furtively before he glanced down into his own glass. “I didn’t know that… they all knew about that,” Alec said softly.

 

Magnus tapped his ring against his glass. “News travels fast in the Downworld,” he said. “Especially in these times.”

 

“Yeah,” Alec said. “I mean, right. I guess, I just didn’t know, they would still…”

 

“Make such a big deal about it?” Magnus asked. Alec’s gaze dropped to the floor. Magnus set his glass down on the table in front of him. “Alec…”

 

“I know it was wrong, okay?” Alec said suddenly, lifting his eyes straight to Magnus’. “I know I messed up, and I’m glad Jace… and Clary stopped me. But they were  _ orders _ . I didn’t want to do it, but I had to. I was just doing my job.”

 

Words he had used to forgive Magnus, mere moments ago. Irritation sparked in Magnus’ chest.

 

“Your  _ job _ could have killed some, Alec,” he said. Alec’s job clenched. “Believe me, I understand why you did what you did. I understand what you were going through, and what you still go through now. But that’s a reason, not an excuse. It doesn’t absolve you.”

 

“I didn’t  _ say _ that -- ”

 

Magnus stood. “Your words don’t matter as much as the way you say them,” he said. “ _ And _ while I understand why you did that, I also understand that it was wrong of you too, and I understand why the Werewolves do not want you as a diplomat to their pack.”

 

“We were there to protect them!” Alec said loudly.

 

“They were just attacked by people who wear your runes, who carry your weapons, and who either had ties to your Institute in the past or still do to this very day. They do not trust you, and they do, in fact, have a very good reason to do so.”

 

“So they see us all as killers?” Alec asked.

 

Magnus scoffed. “You have no right to say that. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that, from Shadowhunters of all kinds? Warlocks are all demons, Vampires are all killers, Werewolves are all beasts, Downworlders are all slaves to their impulses -- ”

 

Alec’s glass hit the floor. It shattered, and scotch seeped out over Magnus’ expensive rug. If Magnus looked at it too long, it reminded him of other stains he had seen mar countless floors. Ones that were far darker, far redder, and far more devastating. With a snap of his fingers, magic flared around it for a second before it was gone.

 

Alec’s hands were shaking, Magnus noted when he looked up again. He was staring at Magnus with  _ huge _ eyes, his face paler than usual, and his hands trembling. Magnus had seen Alec stunned, nervous, and upset before, but the only time that came anywhere close to this was with Valak.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alec muttered. “I’m sorry.”

 

“The broken glass isn’t your fault,” Magnus said as he snapped his fingers again to banish the shattered glass away to be with the scotch.

 

“No,” Alec said breathlessly. He crossed the space between them in two quick strides, but he hesitated. His eyes swept over Magnus’ face and body, confused and slightly lost, before he took Magnus’ elbow in a clumsy grip. “I’m sorry about that too, but I meant, I’m sorry about what I said. About the Circle and the Downworlders. And… you’re right.”

 

That was… not what Magnus was expecting. Magnus tilted his head and took in this Shadowhunter. His eyes were wide and intense, boring into Magnus’ face, a stark contrast from the way they had slid away from his gaze just moments ago. Alec was tense and he looked a bit bewildered. A crease had appeared in his brow.

 

Magnus sighed and picked Alec’s hand from his elbow. He intertwined their fingers and kissed a couple of Alec’s knuckles.

 

“It’s not  _ okay _ ,” Magnus said and Alec’s face fell. “But, like I said, I do understand. And you’re forgiven.”

 

Alec searched his face again, and whatever he saw made his brow tighten even more. But, in the end, he just nodded and hesitated slightly before pulling Magnus into a hug.

 

Magnus rested his head against Alec’s shoulder and took pleasure in the way Alec’s racing heart calmed his nerves, and how soothing the feel of Alec’s fluttering hands coming to rest on his back was.

 

Magnus was never naive enough to have thought dating a Shadowhunter would be an easy choice. The pitfalls, the differences, the potential challenges… they were numerous, and Magnus wasn’t sure how many of them would stalk the heels of this new relationship.

 

But Magnus had known that from the moment this man had grasped his hand, that he would be willing to work through anything that might try to tear them apart. And despite centuries of experience telling him to think otherwise, he was starting to believe Alec felt the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Malec chapter. Next we get back to the wolves.
> 
> Please comment if you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzy gets the job as envoy to the New York pack.

Isabelle pulled her hair back into a long, wavy ponytail and stared into the mirror. Subtler makeup, black jeans and leather jacket, but a red shirt underneath with a zipper closed up to about an inch under and to the center of her collarbone. A relaxed, sensible outfit of which she could make a little more  _ her _ when she was away from the prying eyes of the Institute.

“The Werewolves rejected our last choice of envoy,” Aldertree had told her, like she that envoy wasn’t her brother. “We believe they will be more welcoming to you, but we can’t be sure of that.”

“I can understand why they didn’t want to throw a welcome banquet for us,” Izzy had replied. Aldertree hadn’t commented on that, just continued with the rest of the briefing, but Isabelle was sure she had seen a hint of a smile.

When Aldertree had sent for Alec to come help with the briefing, her brother had been no where to be found. Izzy had been ready to come to her brother’s defense then, but without comment or even a blink, Aldertree had simply sent for Clary instead.

“You should have seen them react to our weapons,” Clary said. “Especially after Magnus removed the glamors, but he also said they knew they were there, even if they didn’t  _ know _ .”

“It’s common enough for that sort of thing to be reported,” Isabelle said. “Even we don’t know all there is to know about Downworlder’s senses.”

“You will have to go in without a weapon,” Aldertree said. “I’d rather you didn’t, if only for the reason the Circle may attack again, but the trust they have in the Institute and Shadowhunters in general is severely damaged. With any luck, they will give you leave to begin to bring a weapon with you later, but it’s just not possible right now.”

Isabelle felt fairly naked without her whip coiled around her wrist, but she let her hand stray to the jewel adorning her neck. How fast it had become another shield for her.

Minutes later, Isabelle was stepping out into the docks, a polite expression schooled onto her face. Before she reached the Jade Wolf, another portal opened.

Magnus stepped out of it and smiled at Izzy. “It’s good to see you,” he said.

“You too, Magnus,” she replied, before her eyes darted up to the Jade Wolf’s sign. “You really think they’ll be okay with me?”

“A lot of the pack was there when you fought to free Meliorn,” Magnus said. “You’re the best choice.”

The door to the Jade Wolf swung open and Alaric walked out. He glanced suspiciously at Isabelle before turning to Magnus with a smile and an extended hand.

“Magnus,” he said warmly. “Thank you for coming again. I know how this situation is interrupting your schedule.”

“My Mundane clients can wait,” Magnus replied as he grasped Alaric’s hand in turn.

“But still,” Alaric said. “We’ll make sure you’re compensated for this.”

Magnus nodded and turned to Isabelle, waving his hand elegantly in her direction. “I’m pleased to introduce Isabelle Lightwood,” he said. “She will be filling the position of envoy to your pack.”

Isabelle smiled at Alaric and stuck out her hand as well. “Honored to meet you,” she said.

“And I you,” Alaric replied. “I have heard good things about Isabelle Lightwood. I regret not being able to fight by your side during the assault on the City Bones, but I was needed elsewhere. Both Luke and Gretel tell me you fought well.”

“And where are they?” Magnus asked.

“Luke is at the police station,” Alaric said. “And Gretel is out with Maia.”

“A date?” Magnus asked, a soft smile turning his lips up.

“Patrol, I think,” Alaric replied. “But I hope they find sometime to themselves.”

“Don’t we all,” Magnus said. “Speaking of,” he held up his wrist adorned with a large watch that was black and rimmed with gold, “I do need to be going. I just wanted to be here to introduce yourself; I have a meeting I have to get to.”

“Thank you for being here, Magnus,” Isabelle said.

Alaric smiled and said his thank yous and goodbyes as well as Magnus waved a simple goodbye and stepped through the portal he conjured up.

“It was nice of Magnus to attend our first meeting,” Izzy said as she followed Alaric into the Jade Wolf, seconds later.

“I think he wanted to be here after the first debacle,” Alaric replied. “Especially since he negotiated a second envoy for us.”

“Did you know it was me?” Isabelle asked.

“Magnus sent us a fire message when your older brother told him,” Alaric said. “Even though I doubt we’d have gotten the ability to refuse twice.”

“You’d prefer to not have your own personal Shadowhunter?” Isabelle asked.

“Absolutely,” Alaric said without pause. “You’re here to keep an eye on us.”

“I’m here to protect you,” Isabelle said.

“What can one Shadowhunter do that a pack of wolves can’t?” Alaric asked.

“Use a seraph blade,” Isabelle said.

“Well enough to kill an ambush of fifteen Circle members?”

“ _ That’s _ how many there were?” Izzy asked.

Alaric sat at one of the tables and gestured for Isabelle to follow his lead. “From what we can guess,” Alaric said. “The amount death, the number of track marks, etc. Of course, we can’t be sure because none of the patrol made it out.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Isabelle said.

“I’m sure you are,” Alaric said. “Just as I’m sure many others in your Institute aren’t.”

“You can’t know that,” Isabelle protested, the sinking feeling in her chest aside.

The door slammed shut behind them. “Is that so?”

Isabelle turned in her seat to see a black woman with dark, curly hair wearing a loose fitting jacket. “Hello,” she said, making her way to stand. “I’m the -- ”

“Shadowhunter, yes I gathered,” the woman said. “The Shadowhunter who has wrangled an almost permanent spot into our home and safe space with the most twisted invitation I’ve ever seen. The Shadowhunter who comes on the heels of the massacre of our own, the Shadowhunter who has been taught to wield the same weapons as the ones who killed our family. That Shadowhunter.”

She walked down the aisle with long, purposeful steps and stopped right at the table Isabelle and Alaric were sat at. She leaned forward to give Alaric a kiss on the cheek before turning to Izzy and flashing a bitter smile.

“Stay sitting,” she ordered.

“Maia,” Alaric said in a half hearted attempt at a warning.

Isabelle glanced between the two of them and took in the tension at the corner of Maia’s eyes, the way she held herself straight and tall even though she leaned over the table. Alaric had his hands resting on the table too, his fingers and palms curved up and pushed down against the flat surface. He was ready to push off the table and leap forward at the slightest hint of movement. Izzy’s movement would be that catalyst, she was sure. 

Maia and Alaric both leaned towards each other, like their center of gravity was pulling them closer without them even noticing. Seeking comfort against an imagined threat; Izzy’s threat. She thought back to Maia’s words of a massacre, of the words about weapons, and wondered if that threat was so imagined after all.

“I specialized in a whip, actually,” Isabelle said.

Maia’s eyes flicked down her torso and back up to her face. “At least they got us a hot one,” she said. Alaric rolled his eyes.

“What would Gretel say about that?” he asked. “And where is she?”

Maia sniffed. “Gretel knows I love her,” she said. “And -- ”

“She’s here.”

Gretel shoved her way through the Jade Wolf’s front door. Her long, silver hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and she stalked down the aisle, glaring at Izzy all the while. Though, the imitating greeting was soften by the kiss she pressed to Maia’s cheek when she reached her side.

“And I don’t have a problem when Maia flirts with pretty girls,” Gretel continued. “I do have a problem when Maia flirts with Shadowhunters.”

Maia turned to face Gretel with a smile on her lips as she pulled her close. “Come on,” Maia said as she pressed a kiss to Gretel’s chin. “She’s better than that boy with no ass from yesterday.” Alaric sighed and unrolled a map on the table.

Isabelle leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “You mean my brother?”

“I meant the Shadowhunter who tried to kill Meliorn,  _ yes _ ,” Maia said sharply.

“Next time,” Gretel cut in, “keep your eyes on my ass. Got it?”

“ _ Absolutely _ ,” Maia said as she placed a firm kiss on Gretel’s lips. When she broke it, she took a step back and tugged Gretel towards her. “We’re going upstairs, Alaric.”

“I’m shocked,” he said. “Change the sheets when you’re done.”

Gretel’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded without taking her eyes away from Maia. She looked at the other woman with something Izzy couldn’t really describe. Together, they made quite the beautiful picture and when she looked at them, she felt something she didn’t really understand. Izzy’s gaze followed them up the stairs as she found herself unable to look away.

“You’re staring,” Alaric said. Izzy’s eyes snapped back to him. He was staring at her, his eyes hard as flint but with a slight wariness at the back of them.

“They’re nice together,” Izzy said and her voice was soft.

Alaric nodded slowly. He still stared at her, but his gaze had lost some of that steel. The wariness had faded to, but it had been replaced with some close to it. He looked not surprised, not nervous but something Izzy, with all her skill in reading others, could not name.

Whatever it was, whatever she was reading from him, it made her want to reach over the table and shake his shoulders. She wanted to demand what he was looking at, why he was scrutinizing her so closely… and she wanted him to tell her,  _ please _ tell her, what he saw.

Instead, she reached forward and tapped the map spread out in front of him with a finger. She smirked and asked, “and what’s this?” And when Gretel and Maia came down from the upstairs room, she kept her eyes focused right on the work in front of her.

When Isabelle left the Jade Wolf, night had already come and it cast shadows across the city. But that was okay. Shadows were where Izzy belonged. Never at the forefront, never cast in light. Always something or someone that kept her from that, no matter how she tried.

Back in her room at the Institute, all lights turned off, Izzy sank onto her bed. She picked up her whip in its coiled bracelet form and let her nails skim the textured scales of the snake. She had been so ecstatic when she received the jewelry turned weapon, and she had worn it her entire life as an adornment and a shield both. It had been her constant companion in ways so many other things had failed to be, and when she felt like something was eating away at her inside, she had always been able to take it with her to the training room and practice with it until her arms and shoulders ached with exhaustion.

But now, the exhaustion was already there. In her arms and shoulders, in her legs, in her chest and heart. And Izzy could do nothing more than sit in a darkness she was all too used to and hold her dearest possession close.

And when she did finally fall back into her bed, her eyes closing despite her wishes and sleep reaching up to claim her, all she could see was her brother’s smile at another man and Gretel’s soft lips brushing the cheek of another woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a comment if you did!


	5. Chapter 5

Luke rolled his shoulders as he pushed his way into the Jade Wolf. He smiled a tired hello at Taito and Leah who were bundled together in the booth closest to the door. Drawn further back to the kitchen by the smell of moo shu pork, he reluctantly pulled away when Alaric waved him down.

He took a seat next to his second in command and Gretel smirked at him and pulled her legs down from the seat she had kicked them up on. “Hungry?” she asked.

Before Luke could answer, she threw a bag of teriyaki onto the table and the map laid out in front of it. Gratefully, Luke grabbed it and pulled it open.

“Where’s Maia?” Luke asked after he swallowed his first bites.

“Work,” Gretel said shortly. “I would have gone with her, but -- ”

“We needed you here,” Alaric said delicately. Gretel pursed her lips but shrugged.

The only reason she hadn’t insisted on going with Maia, Luke knew, was because the Hunter’s Moon was always teeming with other Downworlders, particularly Werewolves and Seelies. Both of which Gretel knew would fight if their territory was invaded by any Circle member.

“And where’s Isabelle Lightwood?”

“On her way,” Alaric said as Gretel rolled her eyes.

“I still don’t see why they wanted one of them here,” she said. “Of course, other than wanting to make sure us dirty, deceitful animals don’t step outside our bounds and kill their precious messiah that’s been murdering us.”

“Gretel…” Luke said. “Izzy’s been fighting against the Circle since they appeared again.”

Gretel’s smile was twisted and bitter as she leaned forward. “You can defend that one all you want, but I don’t see you saying the Clave would hate it so much if Valentine killed us all.”

Luke would like to tell her just that. But he knew all too well what had happened in the Uprising. He had been there, for every step of the way, on every side the war had to offer. And he remembered well the inaction and the blatant praise from the Clave Valentine had received before he had come to threaten them and their hold on power.

Gretel took Luke’s silence as the inability to argue that it was and leaned back in her chair with a flourish that she must have picked up from Magnus.

“You’ve spent too much time with Magnus,” Alaric said.

“No such thing,” Gretel said breezily.

“Weren’t we working?” Alaric asked.

Gretel opened her mouth with a gleam in her dark brown eyes, but Luke cut her off. Alaric had taken a shine to Gretel when he had come to the pack and she to him. It wasn’t long at all until the two began treating each other like siblings, arguments and all. If they got to teasing each other in Spanish, it would be too late; their productive and the day would both be ruined.

“What have you got so far?” Luke asked.

Alaric tapped the map with his pen and Gretel instantly refocused. “Not much,” Alaric sighed. “We’ve really spread out over the last few years. After the Circle was defeated the first time, we didn’t need to be so careful. Our pack members have families and lives they’ll be uprooting if they try to come back closer to here.”

“Better uprooted then dead,” Gretel said darkly.

This time, her lips were pale where she pushed them together. The return of the Circle, it was affecting her more than she cared to admit. Luke resolved to talk to Magnus about it. Luke opened his mouth to speak, to try to gently convince Gretel to take a step back, when he heard the sound of heels.

“Starting without me?” Izzy asked when she arrived at the table.

“Well, you’re the late one,” Gretel said with a roll of her eyes.

“Be  _ nice _ , Gretel,” Luke said.

Gretel stared at him for a moment before she looked up and shot Izzy a sly smile and an upward glance. “This  _ is _ my nice,” she said.

“Sit down, Isabelle,” Alaric said. “We’re discussing how to keep the pack members who live further away safe too.”

Isabelle stood stock still, staring down at Gretel with wide eyes. Alaric repeated her name and she jerked. “Oh,” she said suddenly. “Um, right.”

Luke watched her as she slide carefully into the booth beside Gretel and let her long hair fall in a veil between the two. Slowly, he shot a glance to Alaric who returned it.

Izzy settled her hands on top of each other on the table. “You, uh, said something about pack who lives far away?”

Alaric made a vague noise of agreement. “We send patrols out but without knowing where the Circle could strike next, we can’t know where to send them, or if they’ll actually get there in time to protect them.”

“They can’t protect themselves?” Isabelle asked. “Or move back here?”

“Not all of our pack members are warriors,” Luke said. “Some of them don’t like to transform more than they have to. Some like it, but don’t like to fight. They all have lives and jobs outside being Werewolves. We were discussing the idea of asking them to move back closer, but…”

“But then we’d have to find new homes for muliple Werewolves across New York state,” Alaric said. “And a lot of them have jobs they’d have to quit, families they’d have to root up and bring here, to the city. That won’t be easy for any of us.”

“I didn’t know your pack was so big,” Izzy said.

Luke shrugged. “It’s the New York wolf pack,” he said. “We don’t just protect those in the city. We act as a touchstone for any Werewolves in the state. It’s always been that way.”

Izzy nodded. “That’s good to know,” she said. “I don’t see how you’ll be able to all the way out to these houses though. I could put in a request to the Clave -- ”

Gretel laughed. “Even if that request wouldn’t take years to process, which it will,” Gretel said. “What makes you think our pack members are going to let you Shadowhunters anywhere near their lives outside the Shadowworld? Or their  _ children _ ?”

Izzy stared. “I just thought -- ”

“You can think all you want, but that’ll never work,” Gretel said sharply.

“Gretel’s right,” Alaric said. “Our people don’t want Shadowhunters invading any part of their lives, but especially their private ones.”

“But -- ”

“Izzy,” Luke said. “Try to understand. Our people have worked harder than you can imagine to get the sort of freedom it takes to have a family and a stable job and a life outside of coming here when they feel even the slightest bit emotional. If a Shadowhunter is there, hovering over them every second of the day, it’s going to make them feel like a criminal, or like they’re worthless.”

Izzy frowned but she nodded. “Then I’m sorry, but I don’t we can help you too much with this.”

“ _ Wow _ ,” Gretel said. “Is that so? I had no idea and I’m truly shocked.”

Isabelle licked her lips slowly and stared determinedly at her hands. Gretel shrugged smugly at Izzy’s lack of response and leaned back in the booth.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Luke asked. “Gretel, you can -- ”

But Gretel was already hurrying Izzy out of her seat, phone in hand. “Maia has a break in a few minutes,” she said.

“Be careful,” Alaric warned as Gretel sped out of the room. Izzy watched her go.

Luke rose to let Alaric out. He slipped out of the booth and headed into the kitchen, with a meaningful glance back at Luke.

Luke hesitated a second before reaching out to grasp Izzy’s upper arm. “Hey -- ”

Izzy jumped suddenly. She stared at him, her jaw hanging open a moment before she snapped it shut.

Luke took a breath. “Izzy -- ”

“Um, I actually had something to tell you,” Izzy said quickly.

Luke turned his head and pressed his lips together. “Can it wait?”

“It’s about Jocelyn,” Izzy said quickly. Luke stilled.

“She wanted me to ask if you would come to the Institute,” Izzy said. “To talk.”

Luke sighed and slid back into the booth. After a moment, Izzy did the same.

“I never meant for us to argue after she woke up,” Luke said as he folded his hands together. “I wanted to think -- ”

“That everything would be easy,” Izzy said. “Perfect.”

Luke smiled gently. “Wishful thinking.”

Isabelle hesitated and then she leaned forward across the table and covered his hand with hers. “I can’t pretend to know what it’s like being in love,” she said. “Or what it’s like being in your position. But, I’ve seen things that make me sure… it’s better to try to be with the one you love.”

Luke turned his hand to grasp hers. “Truer words, Izzy,” he said. “And they go for  _ everyone _ .”

\-- -- --

In the Jade Wolf, the walls had ears. Noses, too. The hearing and scent of wolves was something their enemies underestimated at their own peril.

But in the Institute, the walls had eyes. Sharp, unyielding eyes behind which were smart, ambitious, hate-filled brains.

A generalization, Luke knew, but one that had kept him alive, both in his time with the Circle and as a wolf fighting against it. Politics was something Luke always had the least patience with when he was still a Shadowhunter, and Jocelyn had agreed with him, vibrantly. But Valentine… he had excelled at it.

With the pack, there were less politics. Loyalty held them together, loyalty and trust, the kind that helped them not fall under the blades of the greedy sword-wielders that were often times so eager to take them.

The eyes imbedded in the walls of the Institute, eyes which too often lead directly back to the Clave, they saw everything. Luke had kept as many secrets from them in his time as a Shadowhunter as he could, but if one lingered long enough, secrets kept would be seen. And despite the horror of his transition, the threat he had faced when it happened, and the ones he had faced everyday since, part of him was relieved to have put that scrutiny at his back.

But now, here he walked in those halls again, those eyes he knew watched his every step burning into the skin on his back. Luke was back for the reason he always was; the Shadowhunters he loved.

He let no Shadowhunter enter his path as he walked through the Institute to Jocelyn’s room. He feared, as always, that if one accosted him, he would never be allowed to continue to move forward.

Luke squared his shoulders before knocking lightly on Jocelyn’s door. He pushed away the idea that this felt too similar to walking into battle, while sparing a thought to hope it would go that far.

When Jocelyn opened the door, Luke was once again reminded of all the reasons he loved her like he did. Her soft skin, her silky red hair. Her green eyes which were wide with surprise, and the worry that caused her eyebrows to furrow and pinch closer together with worry.

“Luke,” she said, and her voice was soft, like she feared if she got too loud she would scare him away. She blinked and then smiled a small smile. “Please, come in.”

Jocelyn’s room looked just the same as the last time he had been in it. Shadowhunter rooms were always so stagnant, clean and orderly in case the Institute decided to launch an investigation or inspection. One of the few things Jocelyn had liked about hiding was the new found ability to leave mess in her own bedroom. It seemed that her returned to the Institute had revived a habit they both had long thought dead.

Jocelyn sat on her bed and folded her hands in her lap. Luke sat beside her, close. Close enough for their sides to brush, their thighs pressed together. Familiarity, but not an apology. And not forgiveness either.

Luke could hear the breath Jocelyn took, but he could not stop himself from speaking.

“I know -- ”

“I’m sorry -- ”

They both broke off before they could finish, but the tension slowly dissipated from the room. Jocelyn smiled again, bigger, braver, and she opened her mouth once more. Her lips moved with words that Luke could no longer hear.

Luke’s ears rang with static, his heart pounded faster in his chest from fear, desperation, anger, he couldn’t know which. He was on his feet, a growl in his chest, and his phone in his hand before it could even begin to ring. But it did before Jocelyn could say another word.

Maia’s voice sent both fire and ice ripping through Luke’s veins, each for a very different reason. She could say nothing more than a name.


	6. Chapter 6

Gretel tilted her nose up to the air. A slight breeze ran through her silver fur and on that breeze carried the scent of danger.

Once, when she wasn’t out of her teens, Magnus had stood before her in comfortable clothes that probably cost more than a month of her rent. As Catarina finished building the room with a wave of her hands and the color blue, Magnus told her a fight was like a dance.

Gretel had snorted out loud and Catarina had shot Magnus’ back an amused smile and Gretel a wink. Magnus had smiled at her too, and asked him why she didn’t believe him.

“Well,” Gretel had admitted begrudgingly. A trait all teenagers shared, and one that Gretel was so often still privy to, was that they so hated being wrong. “Maybe it is for you, with your magic. But for me?”

Magic had flowed through Magnus’ fingers, and then a staff sat firmly in the palm of his hand. Stunned, Gretel had looked over at Catarina, only to see she was holding one much the same and inspecting it with a critical eye.

“Then watch,” Magnus told her.

Watching Magnus spar with any of his Warlock friends eventually became a favorite pass time for Gretel. It was beautiful in ways she could have never thought it to be, especially when they began to use magic in tandem with the weapons they sparred with.

They had not been able to teach her how to fight as a wolf, not really. And Magnus wouldn’t have had it anyways, insisting she would learn from her pack. But they did teach and show her how to read an opponent, and now Gretel found that skill was a better one than just relying on scent or hearing could ever be.

Maia’s wolfy body pressed into Gretel’s side, her smooth, brown fur rubbing against Gretel’s coarser silver one in a manner more comforting that Gretel would prefer to admit. Out of the corner of her eye, Gretel saw Maia’s ears swivel back and forth.

Gretel boasted no particular gift with her werewolf senses, but Maia certainly did. No one could claim ears sharper than hers. Maia huffed a soft, hot breath which tickled Gretel’s cheek. Her eyes flicked upwards, over a hill.

Gretel shifted her feet to let Maia know she’d understood, and swished her tail to point Alaric, who was waiting behind them, in the same direction. She felt more than saw the dip of Alaric’s head before he was off in a burst of speed.

He would cut their enemies off from behind while she and Maia advanced on them from the front. Once, either Gretel or Maia would have offered to take his place, the arguably more dangerous position as Alaric would be alone. But no longer, and neither Luke nor Alaric would ever suggest it either; their track record showed well how much better Gretel and Maia fought as a team.

For now, they spread out and away from each other to keep their footsteps as quiet as possible and a pair of teeth free if anyone were to get the jump on them. But before they attacked, they would come together, side by side, and they would fight as if they were one.

The battle begun in earnest. The first casualty was by them both, but he gave his life to Gretel’s teeth. Maia’s heavy swipe and sharp claws ripped through the skin and crushed the bone of the arm that had held his sword. The sword laid in the dust as he screamed his pain and terror, eyes fixed so firmly on the mangled, bleeding mess of flesh that barely clung on to the rest of his body that he was not able to tear them away to watch Gretel’s teeth close around his throat.

By the time Gretel looks up, Maia has already taken down another. She bares her bloodstained teeth at Gretel in the closest thing she can give to a smile and it warms Gretel’s heart even as she leaps over her girlfriend to trap a woman who was trying to cleave a sword glowing down on Maia’s neck under her claws.

Gretel’s weight and her momentum crush bone when the woman’s back hits the ground, and drive Gretel’s claws into her chest.

The woman cries out but it does not deter Gretel. Instead, she digs in more, and as she opens the woman from chest to waist and the woman’s blood, right along with bits of her organs, stains Gretel’s fur, she just feels satisfaction.

A sword nicks Gretel’s shoulder. It spills blood and it burns, and memories rise, threatening to take Gretel away from the battlefield and to a place she never wants to return.

For now, the scent of the soil and the growls of Maia ringing in her ears allow her to push those memories from her mind. They will gather later, though, and Gretel takes out the pain she knows they will cause on the flesh of the man that held that sword.

Alaric’s howl breaks Gretel’s concentration, and it almost costs her. She sees the sword slip in, almost feels the deceptively hot blade against her throat, all too fast for terror to drag in. She can only imagine it’s much of the same for the man that almost killed her when Alaric’s teeth meet the back of his leg and he is dragged back, away from Gretel until he meets his end at Maia’s claws.

Six Shadowhunters. Circle members, easily identifiable from the rune burnt into their necks, even on the one whose neck was rather worse for wear, courtesy of Gretel’s teeth. At least four had taken part in the first attack, they were sure. And even if the other two weren’t there, well they were, of course, complicate. And now, five Circle members lay dead on the ground.

“You broke position,” Gretel snarled, on her human feet before the Shadowhunter who had almost gotten to her was done bleeding out.

Alaric joined her in her human form not a moment later. “I did, and I’m sorry,” he said. He paused to spit blood from his mouth. “I thought he would have had you. I should have known better.”

“You should have,” Gretel said. “Now we have to track the other one down again.”

Chances like this one, chances to take revenge on those that deserved it, they came so rarely to people like them. And they would not let this one slip from their fingers.

They split up and raced to find the missing Shadowhunter before he could escape. Gretel tracked him closer and closer to water, and soon the trees gave way to train tracks.

She wrinkled her nose as the pebbles attempted to lodge themselves in her large paws but it was only when she was in the middle of the tracks did she realize.

Pure silver, shaped to be no bigger than the size of the pebbles around it rolled out from under her paws as she shakily lifted them. Blood stained the ground where she had pulled away. Exhaustion and pain crept up her legs and spine, and settled there.

Gretel would have gone to the water. In its cool grasp, she would have been able to sooth her open and burning flesh. But a Shadowhunter wandered into her path, his sword held loosely in his hand, like she was no threat at all.

How she hated knowing he was right.

\-- -- --

Maia’s hands were clasped so tightly together Izzy worried she would break them.

The werewolf had been sitting in that chair from before Izzy had arrived, eyes staring at nothing and hands turning paler and paler. Luke paced around Magnus’ loft, the other werewolf they had brought along, Taito, stalked around the doorways and windows, and Alaric hovered anxiously over Magnus’s shoulder, but Maia could not or would not move.

They had planned their attack, their hunt, without Izzy knowing. Luke had confessed they worried she would tell the Clave, and they would not get their chance for revenge and protection all at once.

Isabelle wanted to be angry, to tell him of the risks and to chastise them all for it. If she had been there, if other Shadowhunters had been there, it might have made a difference. Izzy only had to glance at Maia to know she should keep her mouth shut.

It was growing dark when Magnus collapsed into a chair, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Alaric had left to return to the Jade Wolf with an unfelt kiss pressed to Maia’s temple and a solemn nod to Luke. Maia didn’t look up as Magnus began to speak, but Luke and Taito watched him with rapt attention.

“There’s nothing I can do here,” he said and Izzy had never remembered him sounding so exhausted.

Taito snarled and advanced on Magnus’ slumped form. “You might be able to if you cared enough to,” he snapped.

Magnus’ jaw clenched and he stood. All his usual grace and fluidity suddenly seemed fearsome. “Your temper is short because of your fear for Gretel,” he said. “And it is because of your love of her that I do not throw you off that balcony right now. You’d do well to remember my temper is also short, because I love Gretel too.”

It was not a second after Magnus’ last word left his lips that Taito’s shoulders sagged. He nodded and a silent apology passed between them.

“Magnus,” it was Maia’s voice, her voice that trembled a bit in the back of her throat. “If you can’t do anything here… what can you do out there?”

Izzy didn’t know what Magnus’ smile was, what emotions caused his lips to pull up just like that, but she did know she never wanted to see it again.

“My dear Isabelle,” he said. “I’ll need you to call your brother.”

\-- -- --

Clary’s hands clenched into empty fists in her pockets and she longed for something to hold, even if it was just her stele. She ducked her head to her chest and let her red hair fall in a veil that shrouded her from the outside world as she tried not to think about how bad an idea this was.

The opening of a portal behind her didn’t do much to convince her otherwise.

“Clarissa,” Valentine said. Clary closed her eyes before she turned to him, picturing the smile she knew he would wear when she turned around.

It was evil, that smile, both in Clary’s memory and on his face when she opened her eyes. She truly could not tell whether it was supposed to be as intimidating as it was, or if he really believed it would be a sign of comfort.

Valentine stood there, hands folded together on his waist and the hilts of untouched seraph blades hanging from his belt. Flanked by two other Shadowhunters, their pale skin and dark clothes, runes, and blank expressions making them look like wraiths, Valentine cut a fearsome figure, and once again, Clary was struck by how poor an idea this was.

She could hear footsteps coming, echoing over New York’s concrete and she desperately wished to put a stop to it.

But Clary remembered Magnus leaning close, close to her, to Jace, to Alec. She remembered anger that tensed every muscle in his body, the power she could all but taste in the air, the steel in his eyes and the iron in his voice, as he leaned in and told them all they owed him.

And so when Jace appeared, blade springing to life in his hands and jaw clenched, when he ordered her to run, to find Alec… she went. She ran right to Alec, right to where he watched silently behind a building, Magnus at his side. She watched them speak, watch Jace lower his blade, watched this sick recreation of something that they, that Magnus had fought to stop not long ago.

She watched as Valentine took Jace away.

Clary rounded on Magnus then. “You better be right about this,” she said bitterly. “Jace is my family, and --”

“Enough.”

Magnus lifted his chin and glared at her as she took a step back, as she asked, quietly, for she couldn’t force her voice louder, what?

“Jace, your family” Magnus said, “will live through his encounter with Valentine. He won’t be okay, or healthy, but he will live. But I lived through the last time your father attempted his genocide. And I know all too well what happens to my family when he takes them. So I’ve had enough of you trying to tell me the dangers Valentine presents, you who has only learned about him mere weeks ago.”

The portal was open and Magnus was gone through it before Clary could even think of anything to respond.

Clary stared at the still open portal and tried to remember how to close her mouth. Nervously, she glanced to Alec.

He was looking between her and the portal, his hand pulled up by his hip and his pointer finger working his thumb’s cuticle. His hand was also, Clary noticed after a moment, shaking.

“He's not wrong,” Alec said quietly. “I don't like it, but he's not wrong. Jace is safe.”

As they walked through the portal, Clary found herself wishing she could sound as sure of that as he did.

\-- -- --

It was hard to keep himself still. Being in motion made everything easier for Alec. It slowed his mind, made it possible to sort out the thoughts that trampled through his head.

Alec tapped the back of his foot against Magnus’ plush carpet and found quickly it wasn't helping. His hand itched for a bow to hold and his eyes kept darting to where Magnus stood, at Maia’s side.

Looking at Magnus made this easier. It made him remember that Jace was safe that they hadn't sent him back to Valentine without a plan to get him out. That Magnus himself had ensured Jace’s safety, and that he would make sure it wasn't a lie.

And looking away from Magnus made it all too easy to remember how tense Jace’s shoulders were when he went through that portal, how no plan was a sure plan, how Valentine could discover it, and how easily Alec could lose Jace forever.

It wasn't a bad plan. Alec would have never allowed Jace to take the chance he was with a bad plan, even if it did come from Magnus. But it was a dangerous plan. And Alec…

Alec couldn't take it any longer.

He stood, suddenly, and let Magnus’ eyes wander to him. Alec jerked his head when they did and Magnus nodded silently.

In the hallway, Alec leaned back against the wall and pushed, his shoulder blades digging in as he hunched his back. Magnus slide in across from him and leaned closer. His expression was open, unguarded.

“Why are you doing this?” Alec asked. Magnus’ chest and shoulders rolled with his sharp inhale and Alec hurried to say more. “I don't want that werewolf in Valentine’s hands either, but to risk Jace…”

Emotions are nothing but a distraction, Alec had said once and he had meant it. It was true even now, as he had torn Magnus away from preparing for battle. As his stomach churned and he realized he would sacrifice more than he cared to admit for Jace’s safe return. As he looked at what could only be described as disappointment on Magnus’ face.

“He's my brother,” Alec said and it sounded weak even to his ears.

Magnus sighed and stepped closer. He placed a hand on Alec’s chest. “Alec, right now,” he said, “you fear for the sake of your family. And right now, so do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment below if you did.


	7. Chapter 7

_ The air closed in on her huddled form, warmed by hot white light. Her cheeks were warm, stained with tears. Her breath, her hitched cries that she tried so hard to muffle, burned against the skin of her arms as she buried her head closer to her body. _

 

Gretel opened her eyes. The cool, damp air bit at her skin and she shivered. The chains around her clank and shiver with her, and Gretel glared down at them.

 

Adamantas to keep her weak, runes carved into its surface to keep her from transforming. It would not be long until the metal began to seep through her skin and poison her. She would have a long, painful death, but one that she would almost wish for if only to save her from that same kind of death under a seraph blade.

 

She did not believe she would get that wish.

 

“It’s awake.”

 

The voice was like broken glass, ripping and tearing at Gretel the same way as others had before. Suddenly, her eyelids were heavy and she wanted nothing more than to sink into a deep, dreamless sleep she never had to wake up from.

 

She fought that desire with everything she had. These people had too long forced her to cower. She would not give them the satisfaction, even they held her in chains.

 

Her captor smiled as she lifted her gaze to meet his. He leaned forward and wrapped his fingers around the bars of Gretel’s cage. His pale skin stood out starkly against both the runes on his body and the darkness cast by whatever room they were in, and Gretel narrowed her eyes.

 

“Do you know me?” the Shadowhunter asked. Her answer would have been the same regardless, but Gretel still searched his face and her own memory carefully.

 

“No,” she said finally. The word burned her throat on the way out.

 

The Shadowhunter snorted. “I didn’t think so. It figures you wouldn’t be able to remember the people you’ve killed.”

 

“You’re alive right now,” Gretel said.

 

The bars rattled and shook loudly when the Shadowhunter slammed his hand down on them. The natural reaction would be to flinch, but Gretel steeled herself firmly against it, locking every muscle in her body with a cold determination as she clenched her jaw. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her scared.

 

“Brandon,” this voice, this one was soft. He looked at Gretel with dark brown eyes, eyes that had bags big enough under them to make him seem as if he was as tired as Gretel felt. “Easy.”

 

“ _ Easy _ ?” Brandon asked. “Jeremy, you know what she is, what she’s  _ done _ .”

 

“I know,” Jeremy said quietly. “I know. But let me handle her for a bit; you can tell Mr. Morgenstern she’s awake.

 

Brandon’s hands clenched into tight fists. “Fine,” he said, spit flying from his mouth. He turned to glare at Gretel again over his shoulder, “but I’ll be back soon.”

 

Jeremy watched him leave silently, but as soon as the heavy metal door slammed behind Brandon, he knelt in front of Gretel’s cage.

 

“I’m sorry about him,” Jeremy said quietly. He hesitated and licked his lips. “Can I get you some water, maybe?”

 

Gretel couldn’t help but stare at the black mark on his neck. “You’re awfully kind for a Shadowhunter,” she said hoarsely.

 

Self-consciously, Jeremy’s hand went to his neck, cupping the rune there unsurely. “I only, um… Ascended, I think they call it, a couple weeks ago,” he said. “Morgenstern approached Brandon, and he’s my brother, so I couldn’t let him do this alone. And before you say anything,” Jeremy said as he sat down and pulled his knees up to his chest, “I know we don’t look like brothers. We have different moms.”

 

Gretel shrugged as best she could with the chains wrapped around her. “I wasn’t going to ask about that,” she said. “Sometimes families look weird. I  _ was _ going to ask why you’re here, with me. Your brother doesn’t seem to like me much.”

 

Jeremy glanced towards the door and then sighed. “I was seventeen when my dad died,” he said. “Brandon was fifteen. Our dad wanted to take us out bowling, but I decided to go visit my mom. That night, when Dad and Brandon were walking back from the bowling alley, they were attacked, by a white wolf. Dad was killed. Brandon saw the entire thing.”

 

“And he thinks I did it,” Gretel said. The words tasted like bile in her mouth. She leaned closer to the bars, her eyes wide. “I swear I didn’t,” she said. “I’ve never killed any Mundanes, I  _ swear _ .”

 

Jeremy stared at her. “I -- that’s why we’re here. Brandon, the first time Mr. Morgenstern approached him, he thought he was crazy. But then Mr. Morgenstern told Brandon he knew about a white wolf, and he promised that he’d help us find you.”

 

“Of course he did,” Gretel bit out. Gretel’s relationship with Magnus was no secret, and neither was her relationship with Maia. Luke cared for her too, and he cared for Maia more. Targeting her was a good way to hurt all of them. Lies piled on lies, ones designed to weaken the pack and tear at the hearts of the Downworld.

 

_ Laughter and sneers, mixed with screams and begging. She wanted to stand up, to beg too, but she had promised. She had  _ promised.

 

“What do you think?” Gretel asked harshly as she blinked the memory away.

 

Jeremy’s mouth hung open for a second before his eyes flittered to the side. “I think… I think I’ve seen things here, that remind me of things that Brandon doesn’t know about,” he said haltingly. “Things that make me think it wouldn’t be a surprise if Mr. Morgenstern was lying about you.”

 

\-- -- --

 

Jace rounded his shoulders and fixed his eyes firmly on the deck of the boat. Valentine’s voice washed over him like a riptide hitting the rocks and it threatened to pull him under.

 

The mission. That’s why he was here. Jace took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut just for a moment. He could handle it, he could handle his father’s words, the hand that lingered on his shoulder, for Magnus.

 

_ “I’m sorry to ask this of you, Jace,” Magnus said. His hands were shaking, Jace realized. “I  _ truly _ am.” _

 

Magnus had done so much for all of them, for Clary, for Jace, and especially for Alec. He had risked his life and heart for Jace’s family before, and now that he asked Jace save his family in return, how could he say no? Hell, he didn’t want to say no.

 

His father stepped around him and lingered there, leaning close. Jace clenched his fist and resisted the urge to touch what lay in the pocket of his jacket, to hold onto a physical reminder of the promise that was the only thing keeping him from fighting his way off that freighter.

 

Shakily, he unclenched his fist and cast his eyes around.  _ The mission _ . The job. That’s what he was here to do, and if nothing else, he had always been damn good at that.

 

A young Shadowhunter, no older than Jace, stomped his way over to Valentine, an angry smirk on his face. Valentine noticed him just a second after Jace and turned, a slimy smile curling his lips upward.

 

“Brandon,” Valentine said smugly.

 

Brandon nodded a formal greeting that was immediately ruined by the superior smile that followed. “She’s awake,” he said. “Jeremy’s watching her.” 

 

“Good,” Valentine said. “I promised I’d find her for you, didn’t I?” Brandon had barely finished nodding before Valentine was speaking again. “We’ll go see her in a moment, but first I’d like you to meet someone.”

 

He stepped back and gestured proudly to Jace. “This is my son,” he said. “Jace, this is Brandon. He’s a rising star in my army.”

 

Brandon stepped forward and extended a hand to Jace with a genuine smile on his face. “Hi,” he said, “glad to have you.”

 

Jace shook the offered hand quickly and then resisted the urge to wipe it on his jacket. “You too,” he said. Slowly, carefully, he glanced between the two. “You said something about a  _ her _ ?”

 

Valentine smiled serenely. “Don’t you worry about that,” he said. “I’ll be sure to fill you in later, but for now, Ryan here will show you to your room.”

 

Ryan was a man taller than Valentine and broader than Jace who reeked of newly minted Shadowhunter arrogance. He led Jace to his room instead of guided him there from behind and all it took was a kick to the back of the knee and a strong chokehold before he was out.

 

The portal shard glowed as Jace slipped it out of his pocket. At any other point in his life, he would have been disturbed by that sort of glow. But here, now, on this ship? It was a life line.

 

Out came Jace’s stele, along with a small scrap of paper. On it was a rune Jace had never seen before, sketched by Magnus before Jace had gotten himself kidnapped.

 

_“It’s a variation of the fire message rune,”_ _Magnus said as he presented the paper with a flourish. Alec, Izzy, and Jace stared at him blankly. “I created it back when I first created the portal. I had been going to show it to the Shadowhunter who was assisting me in the creation of the portal but he proved himself rather untrustworthy, so I kept it to myself.”_

 

_ “You  _ created _ a rune?” Alec asked, staring at his boyfriend in awe. _

 

_ “A variation of one, yes,” Magnus said. “It really was quite simple.” _

 

_ “Bad _ ass _ ,” Izzy said. “What does it do?” _

 

_ “It’s essentially a homing beacon,” Magnus replied, “using the same type of energies as a fire message. Just activate the rune and it’ll lead me right to you.” _

 

Jace took his stele in hand, doing his best to ignore his trembling fingers as he traced the rune. It lit up a bright, vibrant gold that Jace squinted against.

 

Somewhere, deep in the bowels of the ship, a head jerked up. A deathly pale jaw clenched and hands shook worse than Jace’s had. Eyes closed as if that act alone could will away the dreaded inevitable, and magic pulsed.

 

A portal bloomed in front of Jace’s eyes and he felt premature relief spread throughout his body. He sternly reminded himself that none of them were safe just yet, that they could still fail and die, but even that wasn’t enough to completely quell that comfort.

 

Maia stalked out of the portal, her eyes already glowing green. Magnus followed right behind her. With an elegant snap, the portal behind him was gone.

 

_ “What do you mean, of course we’re going with you,” Alec said, and Jace was fairly sure he could hear his brother’s teeth grinding together. _

 

_ “You will not,” Magnus said. “Portaling a whole team of Shadowhunters into Valentine’s hideout will bring too much attention, and likely end in Gretel’s death. We are not risking that.” _

 

_ “Damn right,” Maia growled as she paced around Magnus’ sitting room. _

 

_ “Furthermore,” Magnus said. “If you return to the Institute to get the kind of weaponry you’d need to launch that assault, let alone the manpower, Valentine may hear about it. We know he’s put spies in the Institute before. You and Isabelle need to stay in your positions so as not to arouse suspicion.” _

 

_ Alec pressed his lips together so hard they turned completely white. Beside him, Izzy put a hand on his crossed forearm. “We understand,” she said. Magnus shot her a tense smile, but kept his gaze firmly set on Alec. _

 

_ “Yes,” Alec finally ground out. “We understand.” _

 

Magnus rolled his shoulders back as his face turned cold and hard. Jace recognized the icy feeling that gripped his spine as fear.

 

Gone were Magnus’ masks. His deep, raging anger stood out clearly now, and it was nowhere clearer than in his eyes. They were gold, slitted, and just like the growls that came from Maia’s chest, they promised vengeance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait this time. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

Dot wasn’t allowed on the upper deck. She was forced to linger in the dark, away from sight, from the sun, the sky. From the wind that whipped with sea breeze and tasted like salt and smelt like freedom.

 

She couldn’t go outside and feel that wind on her face, but she could taste and smell something sweeping through the ship that was painfully similar, and even more painfully familiar. Dot closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as tears prickled under her eyelids.

 

“What is it,” one of the Shadowhunters grunted.

 

Dot ignored him and flexed her hands. Of all the stupid things to do… she just wished she was more surprised. She wished it hadn’t come to this, that she wouldn’t have to  _ do _ this.

 

For a moment, anger flared in her chest. How dare he come here, for  _ her _ , and not for Dot. How could she be so stupid as to let this happen. Of course he would come for her. But the anger died fast enough. Her entire body ached, her heart even more so. She was too tired for that kind of anger.

 

“Stay here,” she said finally. 

 

The Shadowhunter opened his mouth to protest but Dot had already swept out of the room.

 

He was concealing himself. Dot had felt out bright his magic could burn if he let it out the way so few were privileged to see. At the moment, it was a fire contained, but one that snapped and popped under the shield its master had put up. It would fool most, but not Dot.

 

When she got closer, she felt the small and telling magic of a Shadowhunter’s runes, and the odd sensation of a werewolf’s power. Maia Roberts, she noted, and Valentine’s son.

 

Magnus turned and his cat eyes unerringly locked with hers. Dot had never quite figured out if he let his emotions play out so openly on his face on purpose, or if he was just too open despite all he had been through. Either way, pure pain seared across his face at the sight of her, and Dot was so, so tired.

 

Maia and Valentine’s son turned too, and they followed Magnus’ gaze. Valentine’s raised his sword, but Maia put a hand on his shoulder, and Dot ignored them both.

 

“You can’t be here,” the words tumbled from her mouth before she was ready, but that was okay. It was what she wanted to say anyway, and Dot couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten something she wanted. She should be used to it by now, but it still hurt to know Magnus would deny her of this like all the rest.

 

“Dot,” he breathed and she could feel his magic burn hotter. Her magic didn’t feel like his, and it didn’t feel like it used to. She wondered if she could even call it her magic anymore.

 

“You have to go, Magnus,” she said, and she could hear her voice break. His eyes tightened around the edges before his face fell into a cold mask. His cat eyes glowed brighter.

 

“I can’t,” he said.

 

Maia tugged once on Valentine’s son’s sleeve. He shifted his grip on his seraph blade, but he slowly took a step backward. Dot couldn’t bring herself to stop them. She could barely bring herself to look away from Magnus.

 

Dot knew Magnus. She knew him like few others did, knew him so well that a piece of him would forever exist next to her beating heart. Her magic didn’t feel like her own anymore, but for so long, she had still been able to take comfort in his. If she was to die by his magic, she would not be able to feel anything but that comfort.

 

She wished he would feel the same for hers. She knew he wouldn’t.

 

“Dot,” he said, and his voice was soft, his emotions leaking through once again like they were always want to. “Let me help you.”

 

She wanted to let him. But she didn’t get what she wanted anymore.

 

“I can’t,” she said back to him. “I don’t want to kill you, Magnus.”

 

He looked at her sadly. “You can’t,” he said.

 

It might have been true, once. It would have been true even now if she didn’t have the injections seeping through her veins. He had always been stronger than her, but at a price. It only made sense that now she paid a price too.

 

Her magic flowed through her body, as cold as ice and foreign enough to feel like poison. Dot didn’t have to look down to know that it was yellow.

 

\-- -- --

 

Jace yanked his arm from Maia’s grasp. “What the hell was that,” he hissed. “He needs are  _ help _ .”

 

Maia scoffed. “I can’t tell if you’re even stupider than I thought to think Magnus needs  _ our _ help,” she said, “or way more arrogant. I think I’m gonna go with both.”

 

Jace grit his teeth and thought of Alec. It had been easy for Jace to see the worry in his eyes when he learned Jace would be going on this ship, but he’d hid it well enough that only people who knew him well had been able to see it. But with  _ Magnus _ … Alec either hadn’t bothered to hide his sheer panic  _ or _ he hadn’t been able to. And so Jace had decided right then and there that if one person would be making it out alive from this mission, it would be Magnus.

 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Maia said. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know I don’t like that look on your face. We’re here to find  _ Gretel _ . Magnus can take care of himself, but we need to find Gretel.”

 

“Maybe you’d let him die to find your girlfriend but  _ I _ won’t,” Jace snapped.

 

Maia’s hand was suddenly tightening around his throat, and her long, sharp teeth were bared and they pricked at her lip. “You don’t know me,” she growled. “You don’t know how much Magnus means to me. I know you’re sacrificing a lot to be here, and I know you’re scared, but you will never say that to me again. Understand?”

 

Jace grit his teeth and nodded. Maia let him drop and he immediately reached up to rub at his neck. “Good,” Maia said. “Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

 

Jace scowled. “Not really,” he admitted. “Another Shadowhunter took Valentine to see a captive, but I don’t know for sure if it’s Gretel.”

 

“Show me where,” Maia said.

 

Jace nodded and took the lead. “I’m not sure the exact way,” he said as he crouched low and tried to keep to the shadows. “But --”

 

The shadows suddenly it up in a glowing light as a seraph blade drew level to Jace’s throat.

 

\-- -- --

 

Dot ducked. The yellow blast dissipated before could collide with the freighter’s steel walls. By the time she looked up, Magnus already had a spell on his lips.

 

She threw a ball of magic straight at his chest, another one following right after, on its way towards his head. Magnus caught the first between his hands, the magic crackling in the palms of a warlock it did not originate from. It hissed as Magnus lifted it and slammed it into her other blast.

 

He was working overtime to keep their bolts from slamming into the ship. With the power they were both throwing around, it would certainly bring someone running, if it didn’t tear a hole straight through the freighter.

 

Magnus opened his mouth again and power crackled on Dot’s finger tips as she readied to stop whatever spell he would speak.

 

“Your power has grown, Dot,” he said instead. If she had the energy to, she would laugh. Instead, she crouched and pressed her palms to the floor. A wide wave of electrified magic spread across the floor.

 

“I didn’t have a choice in that,” she said softly. It was still bitter.

 

Magnus took two quick steps back and with a wiggle of his fingers, he split her attack in half. The magic flowed harmlessly around him like a parting river.

 

Dot tilted her head down and let her hair cover her mouth. She fired off one, two, three more blasts, so powerful and compact that they screamed in the air on their way towards Magnus. A soft blue formed in front of Magnus’ splayed hand. Calmly, he intercepted every blast.

 

The small bit of magic gathering in Dot’s hand sparked and she ignored how her stomach twisted. She pressed her pointer and middle fingers together and a thin, but steady stream of magic shot forward.

 

Magnus raised his shield towards it. Dot took a deep breath.

 

Her power dodged around his shield. Magnus flinched away, but he was too slow. It wrapped around his arm in a long, dark yellow stream. Magnus shouted as it pressed into his arm, tearing both fabric and skin away.

 

Magnus jerked his free arm upwards and a wall of dark orange magic sprang up. It hurtled towards Dot, and she glanced around. Nowhere to go, no hide, she grit her teeth and focused on holding her spell.

 

His magic crashed into her, sending her flying off her feet. It burned where it touched her bare skin and Dot screamed through her gritted teeth.

 

Her vision blurred as she pried her eyes back open. Dot’s skin prickled uncomfortably and her body shrieked in protest as she lifted her head. The side of her head burned and she reached up to touch it. Her fingers came back red.

 

Dot narrowed her eyes, both against the pain, and also trying to focus her vision enough to see Magnus. When she saw him, she scrambled to her feet.

 

He had fallen to his knees. Her spell had wound its way past his elbow now, and was making its towards his shoulder, leaving blood in his wake. Dot’s head spun as she made her way to his side.

Magnus’ blood began to drip onto the floor. A muffled cry made its way from his lips. Dot stared down at him.

 

“I didn’t want this,” she said.

 

He didn’t look up. “You really are stronger,” he said. The words were soft.

 

Dot’s cheeks were wet. “It’s because of you,” she said. She wished she could summon the anger the words deserved.

 

This time, Magnus raised his head and the naked pain on his face made her ache. The wavering beat of his power that was hidden underneath her skin made her stomach churn. “I know,” he said, and his voice was tight with agony. “I’m sorry.”

 

Dot’s legs gave out and she sunk to the ground. “Why,” she whispered, and a sob tore its way from her mouth.

 

Magnus’ eyebrows knit together over dull cat eyes. “I thought you were dead. Dot, I couldn’t  _ feel _ you.”

 

Her breath caught in her throat. Her magic hadn’t felt like her own in a long time, that was true, but for Magnus to say that, to truly believe her dead because of it… She must be entirely lost. Dot closed her eyes and felt the tears stuck to her eyelashes on her cheeks.

 

“I thought I lost you,” Magnus murmured, and Dot couldn’t tell if it was her heart that ached or that little part of her that was Magnus. The pool of his blood on the floor was growing larger by the second. It wouldn’t be long now. “Then I lost Ragnor. I felt almost empty. Then they took Gretel from me.”

 

“You come for Gretel,” Dot said, tiredly. “But not for me.”

 

“I’m sorry, Dot,” Magnus said again. “But I won’t let them take her from me.”

 

Dot opened her eyes instantly, but it was too late. Magnus was already swathed in bright blue light, the trailing end of her spell falling away into nothing. He was already reaching out with his uninjured arm, a soft blue glowing at the very tips of his fingers.

 

They brushed across her forehead feather light, and all at once, her body was heavy. Her eyes slid closed, into a soft, cool darkness. She was so tired, and she should have known that Magnus would grant her the rest she so desired.

 

The darkness claimed her quickly, but not before she could feel Magnus breath on her ear, or miss the words he whispered. “I won’t let them take you again, either.”

 

\-- -- --

 

Maia clenched her hands open and shut. Her fingernails had already started to grow into claws and they dug sharply into the palms of her hands. She barely noticed.

 

The blade at Jace’s throat shook. The Shadowhunter who threatened them was young, likely younger than Maia, and he looked tired. His brown skin might have helped mask the dark circles that should certainly be under his eyes, but it could do nothing about the heavy bags.

 

Jace raised his hands slowly, palms forward. “What’s -- ”

 

“Shut up,” the other Shadowhunter barked. His eyes darted over to Maia nervously and she bared her quickly lengthening teeth. His jaw dropped open slightly and he was staring now, in awe.

 

“You -- you’re a werewolf,” he said.

 

Maia took a threatened step forward and the Shadowhunters’ shoulders tightened. “A werewolf that’s gonna rip your throat out,” she agreed.

 

Instead of looking terrified, he just knit his eyebrows together and frowned. “Why would you come  _ here _ ?” he asked. “This place is…”

 

“Hell,” Maia said, “for people like me.” She took several steps forward now, and her eyes glowed bright green. The Shadowhunter shifted his weight away from Jace, who tensed and got ready to move. “There are some people I’d gladly walk into hell for. You took one of them.”

 

The Shadowhunter took a deep breath and then lowered his blade. “You’re talking about Gretel,” he said. “Let me take you to her.”

 

It was silent, for a moment.

 

“ _ What _ ?” Jace said and the Shadowhunter shushed him. Maia ignored both of them.

 

“You want to take me to Gretel?”

 

“It’s obviously a trap,” Jace said.

 

“It’s  _ not _ ,” the Shadowhunter said. “Why would I want or need to trap you, you’re already trapped on a boat with hundreds of people who want to kill or torture you?”

 

Jace frowned. “You -- ”

 

“ _ Why _ ,” Maia interrupted. “Why would you want to help us?”

 

The Shadowhunter turned the hilt of his blade in his hands nervously. “I joined this, whatever it is, because of my brother,” he said. “But what they’re doing on this ship is wrong. What they’re doing to Gretel is wrong. I want to help.”

 

The ship stank. It stank like sweat and salt water and blood. It stank like death and horrors Maia didn’t even want to imagine. But that… it rang true.

 

And anyway, Maia was sure she stank of desperation. “Take me to her,” she said.

 

Jace scowled, but he was smart enough not to say anything. The Shadowhunter lead them across the freighter, quiet, and keeping to the shadows, until they reached a heavy metal door.

 

“She’s through here,” he told them in barely above a whisper.

 

“You first,” Maia said. Jace nodded sharply and pulled out a seraph dagger.

 

The Shadowhunter pulled open the door, and did indeed take the first few steps down the dark staircase first. But then Maia saw the silver swath of hair, head bowed and falling in front of her face, and she shoved him aside.

 

“Gretel,” she said, voice getting caught in her throat.

 

Gretel raised her head slowly. She blinked, once, twice, before a whisper left her lips. “Maia?”

 

Maia was down the stairs and in front of the cage they held her in in a matter of seconds. “I’m here,” she whispered as she grasped the bars of the cage. “I’m going to get you out.”

 

Gretel’s eyes fluttered. “No,” she whispered. “No, Maia.”

 

The darkness in the room was cloying, and the smell was almost overpowering. Enough, even, to confuse werewolf senses, especially if said werewolf was distracted.

 

Maia turned, slowly, as the glow of seraph blades chased the darkness away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it took me longer than I wanted, but it's out! You really don't have to worry about me giving up on this fic series, I'm in it for the long haul.
> 
> I hoped you like the fight scene, writing warlock v warlock is actually harder than I thought it would be.
> 
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment, and hopefully I'll update faster next time!


	9. Chapter 9

It had been a long time, longer than she cared to admit, since she had felt warm. Chills had wracked her body from the time she set foot on the metal boat, any warmth she had been able to conjure disappearing on the water’s wind.

 

Now it crept up her veins like a slow, comforting touch, and she wondered if she would weep. Beside her heart, she felt a part of her that was not just her own burn brighter. A hand brushed over her cheek, tracing a line of dark, raised skin.

 

She twitched, ready to pull away. But it had been so long since she had been allowed such a soothing touch and she dared not flinch away. The hand, too, was warm.

 

She knew what he wanted. It made her own heart ache, burn with a familiar fear that had become near constant over her time in her own personal hell. Still, she would give him what he wanted. It wasn’t something she could deny, after all, when she felt how badly he wanted it, and how ready he was to get her to safety and attempt something much stupider without her by his side.

 

Besides. It wouldn’t be the first time she did something foolish with him.

 

\-- -- --

 

The Shadowhunter’s skin turned milky in the seraph’s blade light. “You  _ betrayed _ us?” he snarled, his hand turning paler and then red around the sword’s hilt. “We’re brothers, Jeremy.”

 

Jeremy’s face was drawn, his brown skin a bit pallid. “I know,” he said and his voice broke. “And I’m sorry, Brandon, I really am, but you have to see this isn’t right. She deserves --”

 

“Nothing!” Brandon shouted, spit flying from his lips. “She deserves  _ nothing, _ she’s a murderer! She killed our father!”

 

“She says she didn’t do it,” Jeremy said, softer, but his voice now held the strength of iron.

 

Brandon shook his head wildly. “It lied! I saw it myself, it was a white wolf, I saw it!”

 

“But shouldn’t she get the chance to prove it wasn’t her?” Jeremy asked. Brandon’s mouth opened, his lip curled back in a sneer, but Jeremy railroaded right over him. “And it’s not even just about her! Look at all of them,” he said, throwing out an arm towards the door. “All those people in cages? It’s not  _ right _ .”

 

“Not  _ people _ ,” Brandon spat. “Monsters.”

 

Exhaustion, mixed with sadness, spasmed across Jeremy’s face. “You don’t know that,” he said. “You can’t know that. You don’t know what it’s like to live with constant suspicion at your back, no matter what you do. She, they, don’t deserve to be locked up like… like animals because of that unfounded mistrust.”

 

Brandon stared at him, his jaw working open and closed. Noises made their way through his lips, but try as he might, he could not form a single word. Instead, a sigh echoed through the dimly lit room.

 

“Dear boy,” Valentine said as he stepped forward. “You truly did show such promise. It’s a horrible tragedy you allowed those beasts to get in your head.”

 

Anger flared across Jeremy’s face now. He pointed at Valentine, but he spoke to his brother. “You see?” he asked, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “He just called them beasts, like it was nothing!”

 

“That is what they are, Jeremy,” Valentine said calmly. “To deny that is to deny their nature.”

 

Jeremy snorted. “Gee, wonder where I’ve seen that before,” he said.

 

Valentine ignored him, and placed a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, soldier,” he said smoothly. “We’ll break this spell she put on your brother. You’ll have him back, as good as new.”

 

“Werewolves can’t cast spells, asshole,” Gretel murmured, her head slumped against her chest. 

 

She too, was ignored, as Valentine ordered the Shadowhunters to take the Downworlders up to the deck. “We’ll make examples of them,” he said, as he waded through his soldiers and made his way up to Jace.

 

Jace stared past his father’s shoulder as he watched Maia and Gretel being dragged from the room, Jeremy being shoved out after them. “It’s a shame you chose to help them, Jace,” Valentine said softly. “I had thought better of you.”

 

“I don’t think I want you thinking better of me,” Jace said softly.

 

Valentine reached forward with a smile and grasped Jace’s bicep hard enough to bruise. “Let’s see if I can’t change your mind,” he said calmly as he dragged him out the door.

 

The sky was clear of any clouds and the sun shone down brightly. It felt utterly at odds, Jace thought, with what the scene that was happening now was. Two Shadowhunters were dragging Gretel out onto the deck on her side by the chains wrapped around her. She squinted and cowered from the light, the slightest whimper breaking through her pursed lips.

 

Maia’s shoulders shook with either rage or fear, but either way, the only brief moments her gaze drifted from Gretel was to dart to the seraph blades that dangled from the hips of the Shadowhunters around her. Maia’s lips curled as one of the Shadowhunters holding her jerked restrained arms roughly, but she did not try to fight them off.

 

No one had laid a hand on Jeremy, but his brother stood all too close behind his shoulder. Both brothers had a dark, shadowed look across their face, but Jeremy’s jaw was locked while Brandon’s flexed in anger.

 

Jace put one foot in front of the other with as much calm as he could manage. Inside, it felt like someone had dropped a stone into his stomach. They were going to die, he realized. Maia and Gretel, definitely, Jeremy, made. And he was going to have to watch them die. The knowledge was like ice in his veins, like a poison slowly creeping through his body under his skin.

 

Valentine gripped him tighter as Jace swayed under his arms. “I want you to see this,” he said, and he waved the Shadowhunters holding Gretel forward. “This is what they  _ deserve _ .”

 

The seraph blade in Valentine’s hand glowed as he stepped closer to Gretel.

 

Behind them, metal clattered against metal and Jace looked over his shoulder. Horror, fresh once more, seized his heart in a vice grip.

 

Dot’s hair was matted to the side of her head with blood. Her shoulders were hunched and her breath came in fast, harsh spurts.

 

Chains, not unlike Gretel’s, were wrapped around Magnus’ back. He laid, still, thrown by Dot on the deck of the freighter. A tiny sound, one that could not even be called a whimper, tore itself from Gretel’s lips as she stared at his prone form.

 

“Well done, Dorothea,” Valentine said. “I knew you could do it.”

 

Dot stared at him. “It was the demon injections,” she said, after a moment too long. “I couldn’t have defeated him without them.”

 

And then, all Jace can think about is Alec. It’s for Alec, his brother, that Jace kicked out for. His foot made contact with Valentine’s knee, and Valentine crumbled with a shout. Another yell, and a quick glance over tells him that Maia had gotten free. One of the Shadowhunters that had been holding her was curled into a ball on the ship's deck, clutching desperately at his chest. Jace watched as she punched the other in the nose so hard he could both see and hear it break.

 

The sun had turned Maia’s eyes into twin suns of glittering fury, but she still froze when she saw the sword one of the Shadowhunters pressed to Gretel’s neck.

 

Jace hadn’t even heard Valentine rise, but he felt the blow to the back of his neck. It sent him to his knees as Valentine’s shadow loomed in front of him. Maia’s scream washed over him as the entire world turned red.

 

Valentine went flying and the Shadowhunter’s blade at Gretel’s neck suddenly stopped. Jace turned, once again, and this time, Magnus stood tall, the chains at his feet, and Dot by his side.

 

Maia’s triumphant howl was the only warning as her wolf form barreled into one of the Shadowhunter at Gretel’s side. His head went flying as Magnus’ red magic slammed into the other one. Brandon shouted and took a step towards Gretel, but was stopped in his tracks when Jeremy tackled him. 

 

Valentine was on his feet again, shouting at Dot, while more and more Shadowhunters streamed into the area. Maia, human again, shouted Jace’s name, and he was at her side before he even knew he was moving.

 

“Get the chains off,” she ordered as her hands fluttered uselessly over Gretel’s prone body.  Arrows whistled through the air and hit Dot’s shield, bursting into flame and burning to ash as Jace waved his stele over the chains. They fell off and Gretel burst into her wolf form.

 

She looked up and bared her teeth at Jace. Maia let her eyes flare green, but Magnus’ voice rang out.

 

“Gretel!” he said loudly, staring at her even as he waved a hand and broke the necks of three Shadowhunters.

 

In a blink of an eye, Gretel was on her feet and she raced towards Magnus, the blue of Dot’s shields flickering over her silver back. Maia, Jace noticed, was following her quickly. She paused once, to rip Brandon off Jeremy, and deliver a kick that dislocated Brandon’s knee with a sickening  _ crack _ . He was out before he hit the ground, not even having time to scream.

 

Jeremy was frozen, staring in shock at his brother’s crumpled form, but Maia quickly hauled him to his feet. “Run now, freak out later,” she shouted and pulled Jeremy away.

 

Good advice, Jace thought.

 

“Jace,” Magnus shouted. “Come here!”

 

Jace pushed himself to his feet and shoved all the aches and pain away. He ran towards Magnus as Dot took a step back, her shields flickering as if they were about to die.

 

“Jace!” Another voice yelled. Jace turned, a complusion forcing him to against his will. Valentine shoved one of his Shadowhunters aside, a smirk on his face. “Don’t think you can get away from me, son.”

 

Dot’s shields collapsed and Jace’s heart burned with fear.

 

And then fire, as black as the darkest of nights, exploded in front of Valentine. Jace thought his father might have screamed in rage as he lost sight of him behind the wall of fire, but it was quickly lost in the crescendo of screams the flames themselves emitted.

 

Jace had seen those flames once before, and he knew who had brought them to burn even before he looked. Still, when he did, he saw a sight that was only becoming more familiar.

 

Magnus, with his hands outstretched, sun glinting off the rings adorning his fingers. His cat eyes were on full display, and they were a cold, brutal, fantastical sight. Of all the creatures of myth and legend Jace had ever seen and fought, he had never quite come across one with eyes like Magnus’. Every inch of his body told tales of ancient, fierce power and the sight was nothing short of extraordinary.

 

Dot stretched out a hand behind her as the black flames raged, and down went the wards. A portal appeared in their place, Gretel’s silver tail disappeared through it before Jace could even blink an eye. Maia followed, as Jace made his way over, her hand still on Jeremy’s arm.

 

“Go, Dot,” Magnus said softly, casting a look at the other warlock over his shoulder.

 

Dot simply nodded, and her stringy black hair swept over her shoulder and face like a certain. “Be safe,” she said, just as softly, before she disappeared through the portal.

 

And then Jace knew.

 

“Go, Jace,” Magnus said, but Jace  _ knew _ .

 

“You can’t stay,” Jace said, cutting Magnus off on the last couple letters of his name. “You  _ can’t _ .”

 

Magnus merely looked at him with golden eyes, and Jace felt desperation rise in his stomach. “Please,” he said again. “You have to come, you can’t defeat them all by your own.”

 

Magnus turned away, his gaze hard and fixed on the black flames like he could see straight through them and into Valentine’s very heart. “Go, Jace,” he repeated, and this time, Jace did.

 

“Don’t stay,” Jace said and then he leapt into the portal.

 

He fell out on the other side on Magnus’ cushy carpet. Alec and Izzy’s hands were at his shoulders in a heartbeat, and Clary’s face swam in front of his vision. They were all asking, desperately, if he was okay, and there were more voices in the room, all talking at once. Everyone besides Gretel, Jace realized, who was simply staring with blank brown eyes at the portal that still shimmered in the living room.

 

A moment later, a moment too long, Magnus stepped out. Alec was on his feet in an instant, and Jace realized that he too had been staring at the portal even as he drilled Jace on if he was okay.

 

“Magnus!” his brother said loudly, taking a step forward, his hand outstretched. And, with that, Gretel crumpled, her knees hitting the hard wood floors hard enough to bruise.

 

Maia’s cry of her name was a sound punched from her chest, and she, Luke, and Alaric all took quick, alarmed steps towards their fallen pack member.

 

“No,” Magnus said, softly but firmly. “Back off, give her space.”

 

Luke stopped instantly, and his hand quickly found Maia’s shoulder. Alaric bit his lip fiercely when he came to a stop, and tears glittered in Maia’s eyes.

 

“All Shadowhunters need to leave,” Magnus said. Alec and Izzy both opened their mouths in fierce protest, but Magnus cut them both off. “Alexander, I am absolutely overjoyed to see you again, but right now, I must take care of Gretel. Isabelle, I understand you are the Clave’s envoy to the werewolves, and that you will need to make a report on this mission, but you can do that at the Jade Wolf.”

 

Maia took a deep, shaky breath, and shrugged Luke’s hand off her shoulder, though not without a grateful look in his direction. She took a step for Izzy and said softly, “Jace and I were there,” she said. “You can take his report at the Institute, and I’ll come to the Jade Wolf with you and Luke to give my account.”

 

Izzy glanced over at where Gretel was still hunched, unmovingly, on the floor. “But,” she said, hesitantly. “Don’t…?”

 

Maia’s smile was brittle. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice both stern and sad.

 

Izzy nodded, and without another word, Luke led the two of them and Alaric from Magnus’ penthouse.

 

“Come on,” Clary whispered to Jace, and pulled his arm over her shoulders. “Sorry,” she said when she saw him wince. “Let’s get you back to the Institute and all healed up.”

 

Jace’s head felt heavy and his neck felt like rubber, but he still managed some approximation of a nod. Clary shifted under his weight, but still stood strong as she ambled them out the door.

 

Alec lingered a moment longer, worrying the skin on the sides of his finger. Magnus tore his gaze from Gretel to look over at him.

 

“I’m sorry, Alec,” he said, and his brown eyes went soft. “I promise you I’m fine, and I promise we’ll have time to talk later, but I really do need you to go now.”

 

A breath pushed from Alec’s lips, and he nodded, once. “I understand,” he said and he took a couple steps back. “Just… call me?”

 

Magnus’ answer chased him even as Alec let the door close softly behind him. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I'm not giving up on this fic. But. College.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave reviews. They're a great motivator.


	10. Chapter 10

_ Her father’s warm arms hugged her tightly to his broad chest. Puffs of his frantic breath hit the back of her neck. Her mother called his name, what Gretel would later come to understand was desperation clear in her voice. But for now, it just scared her. _

 

_ “Dad,” Gretel whispered and fisted a handful of his shirt. “Daddy, I’m scared.” _

 

_ Her father’s lips pressed down on the top of her head. “I know you are, baby,” he said quietly. “I know, but everything’s gonna be okay.” He squeezed her one more time before he let her slide gently from his grasp onto the floor. _

 

_ Gretel glanced around quickly, and realized this was her mom’s office. A picture of her and her parents sat on her mom’s desk. Her father took her hand and led her behind her mother’s desk. _

 

_ “Okay, baby girl,” he said softly, his eyes darting back to the door. “I need you to go hide under here, okay?” _

 

_ Gretel looked at the dark space that was under her mom’s desk, and suddenly her chest and throat both ached. “Daddy,” she said softly. “I don’t want to.” _

 

_ “I know, sweetheart,” he said, and he pressed a large hand to her cheek. “It’s just like hide and seek, though, I promise. You hide here, and me and mommy will come find you soon.” _

 

_ He tucked one of her black braids behind her ears, and smiled at her. She smiled back, automatically. The corners of her father’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, and she dared anyone he smiled at to not smile back. _

 

_ The door slammed behind her father, and Gretel stared at the dark wood of her mother’s desk. It was still warm in her mother’s office, but there was a chill spreading across her whole body, as if she had touched her fingers to an icicle. _

 

_ And then she heard the screams. _

 

_ They went on, and on, and on. She pressed her hands to her ears, but they still leaked through, and that’s when tears burned in her eyes and her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps. _

 

_ The screams did not last long. The silence that fell was quickly broken by voices she did not recognize and footsteps that echoed across the floors and walls. And then, she heard the door creak open. _

 

_ The air closed in on her huddled form, warmed by hot white light. Her cheeks were warm, stained with tears. Her breath, her hitched cries that she tried so hard to muffle, burned against the skin of her arms as she buried her head closer to her body. _

 

_ The footsteps stopped, and for just a moment, she almost dared to hope. But then a hand, cold and hard, wrapped around her arm and drug her out from her mother’s desk. _

 

_ Her shoulder protest loudly and she let out a little cry as the man that grabbed her pulled her by her arm up to eye level. The black marks stood out like dirt on his pale skin, and his cold, blue eyes were unforgiving as he took her in. _

 

_ “Well, well, well,” he said, and his breath smelled like mint. “Looks like I found a little wolf pup.” _

 

_ “Connor!” someone else shouted, and the man turned, ignoring Gretel’s whimper as he jerked her arm again. “Come in here.” _

 

_ Connor glanced back at Gretel and found her staring at the desk once again. “Oh don’t worry,” he said. Gretel looked back at him so fast her neck ached. “You’re coming with me.” _

 

_ He dragged her out the door and down the hallway and Gretel couldn’t even gather the breath to scream. He stepped into the main room, and that was when the stench of blood hit Gretel’s nose. _

 

_ Gretel had smelled blood before. One time, she had skinned her knee, and the overpowering smell of blood had been worse than the pain. This… this was nothing like that. Nothing like anything she had ever smelt before. _

 

_ Now, she did scream, and shut her eyes as tightly as they would go. Her name spilled from her father’s mouth in a low, ugly groan. _

 

_ “We found a wolf playing possum,” the man that called Connor said. “What’d you get?” _

 

_ “One of his puppies, apparently,” Connor said and shoved Gretel forward. The blade he drew glowed and cast his shadow and Gretel’s on the blood stained floor in front of her. She could feel its heat against the back of her neck. “He’s about to die, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.” _

 

_ Tears stained Gretel’s cheeks as her father jerked on the floor. “No,” he snarled. The other man simply stepped forward and pressed the heel of his shoe against her father’s stomach that was slowly leaking blood. _

 

_ “Bad dog,” he said. _

 

_ “See that?” Connor asked as her father cried out. “Now, be a good little bitch and don’t move.” _

 

_ The seraph blade burned as it touched her forehead. _

 

\-- -- --

 

Magnus swung the door shut behind him, and rubbed a head across his forehead. Maia shifted her weight from foot to foot and offered him a brittle smile.

 

“How is she,” Maia asked.

 

Magnus closed his eyes. “Not well,” he said. “Maia, I know you want to see her -- ”

 

“No!” Maia said, and her eyes darted towards the door. “No, I don’t, I swear. She needs to get better, and right now, I’d only make things worse.”

 

Magnus stared at her for a moment before he reached out and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said.

 

Maia put a hand over his. “Don’t be,” she said.

 

Magnus nodded with a wane smile as he squeezed her shoulder once and slid past her. Isabelle was waiting in the kitchen for him, but she only eyed him once before going back to the cup of coffee she had clutched in her hand.

 

Ever since yesterday, when the Shadowhunter had finally been allowed back in Magnus’ loft to check in about Gretel, she had been acting strangely. But Magnus had neither the time or the energy to deal with that. Izzy would get over whatever was bothering her, and Gretel needed his full attention.

 

Tiredly, Magnus brewed himself a cup of tea, and his mind lingered on Gretel. Gretel was, sadly, no stranger to PTSD, but this episode was nothing like even he had ever seen before. It made his heart twist in sorrow and his gut churn in anger. One day, he swore, he would have Valentine’s head for what he had put her through, if for no other reason. 

 

“Couldn’t you snap that into Gretel’s room?” Isabelle’s voice cut through his thoughts and he looked up to stare at the Shadowhunter.

 

He glanced down at his tea. “I suppose I could,” he said. “But I would rather avoid sudden movements around Gretel at the moment.”

 

Izzy bobbed her head twice and went back to staring into her coffee. Magnus couldn’t help but frown. She couldn’t know, he thought. Despite all the battles she had no doubt been in, she couldn’t know. She was so young, so privileged. Pampered, perhaps not, but she still did not know the way the memories, ones you would have thought were long buried and forgotten, took hold of you and ripped their way up your body, like thick, dark oil crawling its way up your spine.

 

She couldn’t know, and Magnus hoped she never did. Gretel’s memories and what they brought with them, had rendered her bedridden. All of what she was fadded away when she was faced with what had first harmed her, and memories rose again, until she could face nothing and no one. 

 

The only one she could bear to face was Magnus himself. He would never deny her his presence, not ever, but especially not now. She needed him, like she hadn’t needed him in years.

 

Back then, it had not been like this. When Magnus had first met her, she had been wholly silent, but she had still moved, still walked, even though she couldn’t quite manage to look him in the eye. He had coaxed her back to health then, and he planned to do just the same thing now.

 

He tilted the cup back up at Izzy in a toast and made his way back to the room. He smiled, as reassuring as he could make it, at Maia, and she returned it just the same.

 

\-- -- --

 

Magnus had left the door open a crack when he had returned to the room. Maia worried her bottom lip between her teeth as two desires warred against each other.

 

She should close the door, she knew. Magnus was exhausted, and he had more than likely left it open by accident. Gretel deserved her privacy, deserved to have a world all to her own after what the world outside that room had dealt her over the years. And yet, Maia just couldn’t bring herself to shut it.

 

She could peer through that little crack, and she could see Gretel. It was a sight that broke her heart, the way the love of her life was curled into herself, looking as small as a mouse on Magnus’ giant guest bed. But even still, it was a desperate glimpse of something she needed to see.

 

Maia rested her shoulder against the wall, unable to look away. Magnus moved with impressive silence. He had conjured a carpet around the bed, and it muffled his footsteps almost completely. No long, loud, tapping or creaking noises to raise the hair on the back of Gretel’s neck. Instead, he stopped, about a foot away from the bed, and called Gretel’s name in the softest whisper that was still audible.

 

She was still for moments that stretched on a painfully long time, but then she rolled over towards the direction of his voice. Her eyes were screwed up tightly, like she was staring into the sun, despite the fact that all the lights in the room were turned low. Her lips traced his name, but, as if her voice had been stolen away, she did not speak it aloud.

 

Magnus stretched out a hand then, in an offer just as silent. Her eyes fluttered open like it pained her, but she nodded all the same. Magnus took a step forward and let his fingers brush against her forehead in the most gentle caress. He ran his fingers from forehead to cheekbone, and tension, however small the amount was, leaked out of Gretel’s body.

 

A small smile broke on Maia’s face and, for the first time since the first attack, tears for something other than pain and grief burned at the edges of her eyes.

 

The moment was shattered not a minute later.

 

“Doesn’t that bother you?" Isabelle’s voice was soft, but hard, and Maia automatically put her body in between the Shadowhunter’s and the crack in the door, a human shield for the ones inside.

 

It took a moment for the Shadowhunter’s words to register, and when they did, Maia could only blink. “What?” she asked, only remembering at the last second to keep her voice quiet.

 

Izzy inclined her head at the crack in the door. She could still see a bit of the scene inside through the crack past the edge of Maia’s shoulder, and she frowned. “That,” she said.

 

Maia blinked again and turned to look over her shoulder. “Why would that bother me?” she asked.

 

Izzy shifted the weight from one side of her foot to the other, and leaned forward just slightly. “It doesn’t bother you?” she asked, and all at once, Maia understood what she was trying to say.

 

Her hand curled into a fist and she clenched her jaw so tightly together, part of her worried that Gretel’s sensitive ears would pick up the sound of her teeth grinding together. Maia breathed out, once, sharply through her nose. She pushed herself off the wall and stalked past Isabelle.

 

“Follow me,” she hissed under her breath as she glared down at the other woman. She can almost feel the Shadowhunter’s hesitancy, and so while Maia waited for her, she contented herself to attempt to wear a hole in Magnus’ kitchen floor as she paced back and forth. 

 

Isabelle slid into the kitchen a few moments later, but Maia quickly found she could not stop pacing, lest she picked up the Shadowhunter by the collar of the leather jacket she wore and shook her until she saw sense.

 

“I can’t believe you asked me that,” Maia eventually managed to bit out. “I can’t  _ believe  _ \-- ” A snarl curled in her voice, and Izzy wisely kept her mouth shut.

 

The heel of Maia’s boot slammed to a stop on the tile of Magnus’ kitchen, and Maia pointed past Isabelle back towards Gretel’s room. “Do you even  _ know _ what she’s going through,” she spit out. “Can you even imagine? Of course I’m not  _ worried _ . And even if she was okay, even if there wasn’t a battle warring in every bit of her brain and every inch of her skin right now, I still wouldn’t be worried! Because,  _ god _ , you don’t even know anything about them, do you? Anything about their relationship, and especially anything about  _ Magnus _ , that you would even ask a question like  _ that _ .”

 

The words spilled from her mouth, and they made less and less sense as they kept coming, but each one was like a blow to Izzy’s chest. She curled her shoulders inward.

 

Maia took another breath, this time, long and slow. “You just… you don’t know anything,” she said again. “Nothing about what a question like that means, nothing about Magnus, nothing about the two of them. You just…  _ can’t _ ask something like that, knowing as little as you do.” She shook her head and waved a hand. “Just… know that, in any situation, at any time, I would never ask Gretel to refuse love and comfort from Magnus.”

 

\-- -- --

 

_ The ground was warm and sticky beneath her cheek. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She knew exactly what she would see, and moving at all hurt like the burn of a thousand coals pressed against her skin. _

 

_ The butt of the sword pressed against her cheek and she flinched away, waiting for the burn to come. A laugh did instead. _

 

_ “I told you she wasn’t dead,” Connor said, and the other man huffed in response. _

 

_ “I’ve never seen a wolf survive a skinning like that,” he said grouchily. “She’s a tougher pup than her daddy anyway. He’s one dead dog.” _

 

_ Gretel couldn’t hold back the sob that broke from her throat. She had known, of course. They had thrown her down, Connor’s hand around her throat, and the other man’s foot pressed against her father’s neck. Her father’s eyes had burned with anger and horror as they worked, but the guilt had been the easiest to see. That was, until they grew duller and duller, until their spark went out for good, and until Gretel began to scream louder. _

 

_ Connor made a noise of disgust. “Fun’s over,” he said. “Time to add another dead dog to the pack.” _

 

_ Gretel squeezed her eyes shut tighter, but it did not stop the world from rushing red behind her eyelids. _

 

_ Connor’s body hit the ground with a thud. Gretel only just held back her gasp. Footsteps, ones she hadn’t heard before, echoed through the room. _

 

_ “Jesus,” a clear cut British accent rang across the room. “I haven’t seen anything like this in centuries.” _

 

_ “They’re all dead, Magnus!” another voice called. _

 

_ “No,” said another voice, this one so closed to her. “They’re not.”  _

 

_ All of a sudden, his scent was right beside her, and a cursed slipped from his lips. After a moment, he knelt. “Hello, little one,” he said. Gretel didn’t open her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.” _

 

_ He stopped speaking and minutes of silence passed, only broken by the hurried, but muted footsteps around them. Gretel’s muscles began to ache from being in the same position for so long, but she did not move. Eventually, he spoke again.  _

 

_ “I would like to help you,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry for what’s gone on here, my dear, I really am. I promise you’ll be safe with me.” _

 

_ This man spoke differently than Connor and the other man had. She could almost taste the truth in his voice, and yet, she still refused to move. The pain that skittered across her head and pierced her heart was too much; she longed to just lay there and never move again. _

 

_ All of a sudden, the man moved. He stood, and the air spiked with something hot. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” he said, and the world went black before worry had even pierced Gretel’s heart. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter :)  
> Please leave a review if you enjoyed it.


	11. Chapter 11

_ Gretel woke on a cloud. Her muscles no longer ached, her throat no longer burned, and even her head no longer felt like it was being pricked by a thousand needles. Her heart, though, still throbbed. _

 

_ Silk covers wrinkled under her small fists as she gripped them tightly. She struggled up in the bed that she had woken in and looked around. The room was a light blue, and artwork adorned the wall. Every bit of it felt more expensive and extravagant than anything Gretel had ever laid eyes on before. _

 

_ Still, tears burned in her eyes as she looked at them. The pain of her body might have been gone, but both the chill on her head and the pain in her heart told her what had happened. The desire to run and tell her parents about this beautiful room tied in her throat. _

 

_ The door swung open without even the slightest creak. Gretel’s muscles locked together as she swung around to stare at who entered. _

 

_ It was a man, as tall as her father had been, with brown skin just a shade lighter than her mother’s, black lines thicker than what her mom used to like, and hair that stuck straight up. His eyes glittered like both of her parent’s sometimes did, like hers did when she had glanced in the mirror one time. Only, his were golden where theirs were (had been) green, and his pupils were slits. _

 

_ He smiled when he saw her, and his eyes crinkled just the littlest bit on the sides. Gretel’s heart ached. “Oh good,” he said cheerfully. “You’re awake.” He held up a tray of food in a question, and Gretel nodded. _

 

_ With another smile, he crossed the room, and sat the tray down next to her on the bed. Her stomach grumbled but she didn’t have a problem staring up at the man instead of reaching for the food. It only took him a moment to understand. _

 

_ He sat beside her on the bed as well. “My name is Magnus,” he said. “I’m a warlock. Do you know what those are?” Gretel nodded. “Very good,” he said, with a smile. “Do you know what happened?” _

 

_ Gretel bent like a branch in a tornado. Her back arched sharply as she lowered her head towards the silk sheets. _

 

_ Magnus made a sorrowful noise. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he said. “But I always have to ask that question when this happens.” _

 

_ Gretel’s head snapped up and she stared at Magnus with wide eyes. He was already nodding. “Yes, this happens more than you might think.” A dark note of anger curled in his voice. “I try to be there whenever I can.” _

 

_ Gretel nodded slowly. She didn’t know how that made her feel. In the past, she had always felt better when her father had knelt beside her and told he knew exactly how she felt, or when her mother had put a hand on her cheek and explained she had once gone through the same thing. But this was different. This was other kids, like her, sitting here and feeling the same way she did, and that  _ couldn’t _ be good. _

 

_ Magnus watched her silently for a few moments more. “Do you have any questions for me?” he asked. _

 

_ Gretel’s heart thudded in her chest. She did, without a doubt, and yet. And yet, she didn’t. She had never before been a quiet child, but now, despite everything, she found herself having nothing to say.  _

 

_ Magnus took her silence as an answer, and he stood. “When and if you have questions, come ask me,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.” _

 

\-- -- --

 

Every line in Alaric’s body wrote a story of exhaustion. He was slumped over the booth’s table, his face long and drawn, as he stared down at his clasped hands.

 

With a sigh, Luke slid in across from him. Instantly, his head snapped up. “Have you heard from Magnus?” he asked.

 

It was a common question. The most common, by far, the last few days, actually. Gretel had been with Magnus for three days now and the entire clan was itching to know how she was.

 

“Yes,” Luke said and Alaric’s face twisted first in relief and then in concern. “He said she’s not well, but she’s been doing better.”

 

Alaric nodded sharply. “Of course,” he said. “Of course. It’s unrealistic to think she’d recover all at once.” The words were mumbled and spoken quickly. Luke just nodded.

 

“How is everyone else?” he asked. If Luke focused on the technical aspects of running the pack, Alaric did the same with the emotional aspects. Luke all but winced when Alaric glanced at him, his mouth twisted into a frown.

 

“About as well as you can expect,” he said. “They’re all freaking out. I’ve fielded more calls than you can imagine from nervous new mothers and panicking suburban dads. They’re all completely terrified out that we won’t be able to protect them.”

 

Luke rubbed at a blooming headache. It made too much sense for him to really be frustrated, unfortunately. And, if he was honest, he was terrified of that too. He hadn’t been able to do anything to protect Gretel. Not a single thing. He hadn’t been there when she was taken, and he hadn’t gone on the mission to get her back. Gretel was one of the most powerful wolves in the pack, and she was constantly surrounded by other powerful wolves. If even she was not safe, how could the others on the fringes of the pack know they could be?

 

The attacks had had their outer pack members scared enough, but now, with this, they were terrified. They were the wolves living in the suburbs who had never seen a day of combat in their lives; they were teachers and seamstresses and nine-to-fivers, with families and white picket fences who relied on the inner pack and its Alpha to defend them, should the need ever arise.

 

“We need to do something,” Luke said, and Alaric was nodding along before he had even finished. 

 

“I know,” he replied. “But what is there for us to do? We don’t know where Valentine is, and we couldn’t mount a full scale attack on him even if we did. We don’t have the numbers.”

 

Luke shook his head. “None of that matters,” he said. “We can’t let our pack, particularly those members of our pack, live in fear like this. We’re supposed to protect them.”

 

He leaned back against the booth and crossed his arms. “We need a plan.”

 

\-- -- --

 

_ The days had passed since Gretel had been at Magnus’, though she didn’t know how many. She hadn’t asked, and she didn’t know how to count on her own. But she could tell that days had passed. For one, there were windows everywhere in Magnus’ house. Light constantly streamed through, and it was nearly impossible to find a dark corner when the sun was out. _

 

_ And the other way she could tell was whenever she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The first time, she had stared at herself. She had never seen herself without her dark curls before, and she had thought she looked strange without it. Magnus had seen her staring, and had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she looked lovely, and that if she wanted to see a truly ugly hairstyle, she should look at pictures of his friend Ragnor, particularly in the 80s.  _

 

_ She hadn’t understood all of it, but his words, and particularly the roll of his eyes, had almost made her smile, and it certainly made her feel better. She still hadn’t been able to find her words, and so she hadn’t told him, but by the look on his face, Magnus had known anyways. _

 

_ Now, when she looked in the mirror, she did see hair. But it was not the kind of hair she’d had before. Her new hair grew out in neither thick curls nor the dark color it had once been. Instead, it was thin, wispy, stick straight, and silver. _

 

_ She hated it. _

 

_ Magnus’ eyes had simply darted to it once, the day it had grown in enough for everyone to tell what color it was, and just fell away. Like it didn’t matter. Like it was nothing. _

 

_ That was the first time she really felt angry at Magnus. It had to matter, because the last time she had been forced to have her hair like this, it had grown back beautiful and curled and dark, and her mother had beamed and her father had played with her curls and laughed. _

 

_ Then, she had met Magnus’ friend, Ragnor. Gretel remembered his scent from that day, and he’d looked at her, smiled at her, and said hello to her happily. And when he thought she looked away, he shot Magnus the most regretful look. _

 

_ Magnus’ other friend, Catarina, did nothing of the sort. Instead, she took Gretel aside and showed her all the things her beautiful blue magic could do. _

 

_ Raphael… wasn’t Magnus’ friend. Well, he was, but not like Ragnor nor Catarina. She didn’t quite know what to make of the strange relationship they had. She watched Magnus hand Raphael a cup of tea with a soft smile and a ruffle of his hair, and wondered where she had seen it before. _

 

_ Her head was covered entirely with thin silver hair the first time she saw Magnus do battle. Well, that may have been a bit of an exaggeration. She had stumbled in upon Magnus with his sleeves rolled up, Ragnor with a glint in his eyes, and Catarina with a smile on her face. Raphael was sitting in the corner, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off the trio even to look over at Gretel when she entered. _

 

_ Gretel had stared up at Magnus with a questioning head cock, and Magnus hadn’t needed the words she felt no need to say. “We’re going to spar,” he’d said. “With magic.” _

 

_ “It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen before,” Raphael said to her. “Would you like to sit with me and watch?” _

 

_ Gretel glanced up at Magnus, who had smiled and nodded. “Of course!” he said, and waved her over. “Raphael and all of us will keep you safe.” _

 

_ The lights that arched throughout the room were more beautiful than any sunrise, and both they and the warlocks casting them were more elegant than any dancer. It was indeed, as Raphael said, the coolest thing she had ever seen. _

 

_ Her hair had reached the top of her ears the first time Magnus came to her with another question. “Hello cream puff,” he said. “Are you having a nice day?” Gretel nodded and Magnus pulled out a chair with a smile on his face. _

_   
_ _ “I’m glad,” he said. A beat of silence passed, and then he spoke again. “My dear, I hope you know how glad I am that you’ve been so happy here. But, I wanted to ask you, do you know the names of any of your family members?” _

 

_ Gretel froze. _

 

_ “I’ve been trying to find someone for you,” Magnus continued, “but I haven’t had any luck. I was hoping you could help me out.” _

 

_ He asked her like it didn’t matter. Like it was nothing. But it did matter. It had to. _

 

_ For longer than she knew now, she had stayed with Magnus, and his smile made her feel better. His laugh made her smile. Her heart didn’t ache nearly as much anymore. _

 

_ Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Do you not want me?” she asked, and her eyes burned. _

 

_ Magnus’ mouth fell open and he stared at her in silence. For a moment, Gretel wondered if he had even heard her; her voice was nigh whisper quiet, and it rasped so much it, the words began to disappear. _

 

_ “Oh,” Magnus said. He fell to his knees in front of her and curled his elegant fingers around her arm. “Oh, cream puff, of  _ course _ I do. I couldn’t tell you how happy I am to have you here. And, even if you did go somewhere else, I would love to see you as much as possible, if you want that.” _

 

_ Gretel blinked tears from her eyes. _

 

_ Magnus pressed his lips together and reached up to brush tears that hadn’t yet fallen away. “But there’s somethings you don’t understand. Do you know what I do here?” _

 

_ Gretel shook her head slowly. She’d never thought to ask, the same way she had once asked her father where he had went everyday (a doctor’s office), and asked what her mother had done around the restaurant she always took Gretel to (she  _ owned it _ ). She knew it was something fancy; she had been shuffled out of the room more than once, like she had been when her mother met a man in a suit and disappeared into her office. _

 

_ There had also always been a fairly steady stream of people coming to and from Magnus’ home ever since she had gotten there. Most of them had never stayed like Ragnor and Catarina and Raphael, and none of them but those three had ever rummaged through Magnus’ cupboards like they had, complaining about the lack of food and hiding any broken cups under or behind the fridge.  _

 

_ “Well, exactly what I do is very complicated,” Magnus said. “I’m the High Warlock of Brooklyn. It’s my job to protect the people under my charge. And I’ve failed more times than I can count. Like, with your parents. But I’m doing my best to make it right. Unfortunately, that’s very often dangerous, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” _

 

_ Gretel’s heart leapt into her throat. Her? Her getting hurt? What about  _ him?

 

_ “My job is to keep you safe, Gretel,” he said. “I just want to make sure that happens.” _

 

_ A name slipped from her lips before she could even think about it. Her heart didn’t feel heavy when she said it though. It was her mother’s friend, who was taller than her father and Magnus both, but who had shared their kind smile. _

 

_ Magnus found him within the day and explained to her that he, Taito, was her godfather, and he was the person her parents liked so much, they wanted him to be the one to take care of her if something ever happened to them. Gretel remembered Taito as a nice and funny man, but she was sure her parents would have liked Magnus just as much as Taito, and she told him so.  _

 

_ The smile on his face after she’d said that was one of her favorites ever. _

 

_ Taito came to visit her once at Magnus’ house. He’d hugged her tightly, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Gretel pretended not to hear his soft sob. Taito spent that visit, when he wasn’t playing with Gretel, thanking Magnus in his every breath. _

 

_ Gretel spent another week at Magnus’ house after that. Then, he left her with Taito with a smile, a hug, and a phone with his number pressed into palm. She called him the first time she argued with Taito, when she was debating coloring her hair, and the first time she thought about kissing a girl. _

 

_ She ran all the way to his house the first time the full moon hung in the sky and she caught sight of herself in a dark puddle that had collected in the ground and realized even the fur of her wolf had turned the same color as the moon. Magnus had opened the door and glanced at her new fur. He ran his hand through it once, then swung his door wide open and invited her in. Like it was nothing. _

 

_ And Gretel felt at home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gretel then bought a mug for Magnus that says "World's Best Dad." Raphael fixed it to say "World's Best Downworlder Dad" in black sharpie.
> 
> Thanks for reading, please leave a review if you enjoyed it!


	12. Chapter 12

Maia looked completely exhausted. Her bags sunk in horribly under her eyes and she blinked blearily, like a the sun was a newfound sight for her. Alaric didn’t look any better. His curls were oily and his dark circles stood out starkly as he nursed a cup of coffee.

 

Luke couldn’t imagine he was in any better shape. Between worrying for Gretel, comforting the pack, and doing his best to come up with a plan to defend them all from the menace that was Valentine, they had all been turned into a bunch of talking zombies.

 

It had been a week since they had gotten Gretel off that freighter, and Magnus had called to report that she was doing better and would be ready for visitors in a just a little while now. Maia hadn’t been able to look away from her phone for more than five minutes since.

 

In the meantime, she had come over to the Jade Wolf to help with Luke and Alaric with their brainstorming. Even distracted, she had good ideas. And, she had gotten a better look at Valentine’s recent force than either Luke or Alaric had had the opportunity to have.

 

“A head on assault wouldn’t work,” Maia said as she crossed her arms and widened her eyes to shake the sleep off them. “Their numbers, combined with their adamas and silver, make it too dangerous for us.”

 

“If we could trap them -- ” Alaric said.

 

Maia curled her hand into a fist on the table. “But we know almost nothing about them,” she snapped. “We can barely catch them when they come into the city to attack us, let alone any other time.”

 

“We can’t attack Valentine’s forces,” Luke grit out. “In any way. That’s just not an option for us.”

 

Alaric wrinkled his nose in disgust and Maia growled in frustration, but they both nodded. Luke sighed and leaned back in his chair.

 

“We need a way to protect our people,” he said. “Especially the ones that can’t protect themselves. We need to solve that problem before we do anything else.”

 

Alaric leaned forward. “Agreed,” he said and Maia nodded sharply. “But how do we do that?

 

“We go visit the one person who might have a chance of helping us do that,” Luke said.

 

\-- -- --

 

Magnus let them into his loft without hesitation. “I’m sorry,” he said as he lead them to his sitting room. “Gretel is asleep right now, and I don’t want to startle or surprise her.”

 

“That’s not why we’re here,” Luke said as he settled into Magnus’ couch. Maia had shied away from going back to Magnus’ penthouse and she had willingly taken Alaric’s place at the Jade Wolf to field nervous phone calls and keep the other pack members in line. Alaric took a seat beside him and glanced down the hallway to where Gretel’s room was.

 

Luke shot him a stern look and Alaric simply shrugged. Luke sighed, softly, but didn’t say a word. He couldn’t blame Alaric for being curious; he was too, though he hadn’t been lying when he said that wasn’t why they were there. 

 

Twenty years ago, Luke had been a part of the Circle. He had fought by Valentine’s side, believing in his words and mission. He had hunted Downworlders’ by his side. The Clave had not stood in their way. Instead, the man sitting in front of him had, the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

 

That had been illegal now, and essentially still was. Downworlder alliances were discouraged to the highest order in the Clave. And yet, Magnus had managed it for years before the Uprising. He had lead not just an allied, militarized force of Warlocks, but of all Downworlders.

 

Luke knew it hadn’t been easy. Members in that alliance had been taken into custody, and executed more than a few times. Others were hunted down and imprisoned. The fact that Magnus and his inner circle had managed to remain untouched was a true testament to how much the Clave was forced to respect Magnus and give him a wide berth.

 

“I remember what you did back at the Uprising,” Luke said. “I remember the alliance you created.”

 

Magnus barely blinked. “And?” he asked, as if they were not speaking about something that had once been illegal on pain of death. 

 

“And I want to know how you did it,” Luke said. Magnus frowned but Luke foraged ahead. “I’m not strong enough to stop Valentine from attacking us. The pack doesn’t have the numbers to protect the werewolves outside the city, or the ones who aren’t fighters. And we don’t have the fighting force to attack him either, even if we knew where he was.”

 

Magnus sighed and laced his fingers together. “Luke,” he said, his voice grave. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into. Taking this path will make you an enemy of not just Valentine, but also the Clave.”

 

“We’re Downworlders, Magnus,” Luke said. “We’re already enemies of the Clave.”

 

“I think I know that quite well,” Magnus said mildly, and Luke glanced away. Magnus shook his head. “This will be more difficult than you could ever imagine. You will think you are safe, but then Shadowhunters will come, and they’ll come to kill you. Do you know how many of my fighters were killed in raids by the Clave?”

 

“I know twelve that were executed,” Luke said and Magnus scoffed.

 

“Those are the official numbers, my friend. The raids took the lives of tens, if not hundreds of those who were under  _ my _ command. They were considered acceptable losses to get to the leaders of their fractions.” Magnus leaned forward. “They almost killed Raphael,” he said. “And they  _ did _ kill another one of my children. Her name was Kanani. Her death was never even recognized by the Clave.”

 

Magnus closed his eyes for a moment, and Luke stayed quiet as a stone sunk in his stomach. “Magnus,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. But my people are  _ already _ dying.”

 

Magnus was quiet a moment more before he leaned back again. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he said. “I’m not trying to talk you out of this. I started the alliance years because we had no other options. No one would protect us, and they all killed us, so we had to protect ourselves. There was no other option.”

 

Luke nodded. “That’s where we are, now,” he said. 

 

Alaric raised his head. The Clave might send Isabelle Lightwood to be an envoy, but that’s as far as their protection will extend to us,” he said. “We’re not new Downworlders, ones that still look to the Institutes for protection and hope,” he said. “We know what they are.”

 

“To me,” Magnus said, “you’re both new Downworlders.

 

Alaric attempted to keep from rolling his eyes and a smile darted across Magnus’ face. “If you’re sure,” Magnus said. “Then, first, you will need to conduct your practice as much in secret as you can. Involve only who you trust, particularly at the beginning. Even if the Clave knows what you’re doing, you have to make sure it’s impossible for them to  _ prove _ it. Secondly, you cannot take this outside the Werewolves.”

 

“Valentine threatens the entire Downworld,” Alaric said sharply.

 

“I  _ know _ ,” Magnus said. “But, the Clave is much more likely to perceive you as a threat if you join forces with any other species. Valentine has stolen one of their precious artifacts; that will be enough to keep them and their wounded pride focused on him for a long while. Don’t make the mistake of making yourself seem like too big of a threat.”

 

Luke felt hesitation settle into his bones and a frown twisted across his face. Magnus sighed. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “And, trust me, I know how powerful we as Downworlders are when we are together. But I also know better than any other person the calamity the Clave will bring down on your heads if they perceive you as too much of a threat. That is the Clave’s greatest fear, you two. The Downworlders, the scum with the demon blood, uniting to rise against them. They will fight against it with all their might. If your goal it truly to protect your people, you will not give them an excuse to do that.”

 

Luke lowered his head. Who was he kidding? The only reason Magnus could sit here and speak to him, the only reason he could come to their, the werewolves’ aid, was because of his title as High Warlock. The Clave needed the High Warlocks too much to hold them to the standards of the other Downworlders. Magnus especially, who was uniquely powerful and held a particularly large territory, was entirely irreplaceable. Without him, the Clave would have neither the portal, nor a large amount of their wards. It was his reputation that kept himself. A reputation that Luke, none of the werewolves in fact, boasted.

 

The one time Magnus had tried to share this reputation, it had cost him dearly. Luke couldn’t take that same chance.

 

“Fine,” Luke growled. “I understand.” He could hear Alaric grit his teeth beside him, but the other werewolf did not say another word.

 

“Good,” Magnus said. “Now, though. While you may not be able to restart my alliance of old, that doesn’t mean  _ I _ won’t help you.” A sly smile made its way onto Magnus’ lips. “Of course, I can’t do it outright.”

 

Luke felt a mildly hysterical laugh bubble in his chest as he nodded. “Of course,” he said as he tried to keep the laugh out of his voice.

 

Magnus’ smile grew wider. “Whatever you need, if it is in my power to give,” he said. “Now, I have to go check on Gretel. You’re both welcome to stay, and welcome to whatever sparse food is in my kitchen.”

 

He stood and Alaric immediately turned to Luke. “The only way this could work is if we reached out to the other pack Alphas.”

 

Luke blinked. “Really?” he asked. “I thought perhaps it would work better if we consolidated our pack members across the state and built them into fractions, like the ones Magnus was talking about. Teach a few people in each of the fractions to fight.”

 

“But they’re not warriors,” Alaric said. “They don’t want to be.”

 

Luke sighed. “I know,” he said. “And I don’t want them to have to be. But desperate times.”

 

Alaric shook his head in frustration. “Luke, you’re thinking like a Shadowhunter,” he said and Luke recoiled. “They taught you that  _ everyone _ had to fight. How old were you even when you held your first seraph blade?”

 

Luke’s heart contracted. He hadn’t been any older than five.

 

Alaric’s voice softened. “See?” he asked. “We can’t force people, our people, to be and do something they don’t put their hearts into. It wouldn’t be fair to them or their families.”

 

Luke nodded and then nodded again. “Right,” he said. “You’re right.”

 

The silence resounded through the large, extravagant rooms of Magnus’ penthouse, and Luke shifted on the couch.

 

“What were you saying about the other Alphas?” he asked eventually.

 

Alaric rounded his shoulders. “We can’t ask or force our pack members that don’t want to, to fight,” he said as he leaned forward. “But all the packs in the Americas have some sort of fighting or protection force. If we got in contact with some of them and convinced them that Valentine could very well become a big enough threat to effect them as well, they might send us some help.”

 

Luke frowned. “I don’t think it would be too hard to convince them of the threat Valentine poses,” he said. “The Circle attacked many throughout the world, let alone the Americas, at the time of the Uprising, and Valentine’s only grown more dangerous. But I don’t see how we’ll be able to convince them to send  _ us _ their warriors, at the time they’ll need them most.”

 

“It won’t be like a loan,” Alaric said and his eyes light up. “It will be its own fighting force. A mere handful of warriors from each pack, dedicated to protecting the entire pack.”

 

“Clever,” Magnus said from the doorway. The two other men spun to stare at him. “And possible,” he continued without batting an eye. “That wouldn’t be illegal under Clave law, as they never imagined we stupid Downworlders would ever be able to come up with something that so closely mimicked their system of perfection.”

 

“And we know it could work, because it’s so similar to the Clave’s system, which has obviously been working,” Luke said. “Except, with one problem.”

 

“Yes,” Magnus said. “The portal issue. Shadowhunters can travel wherever they wish in the world, because they are able to order warlocks like me to create portals whenever they wish. If the Clave sees you using portals, they will have enough proof to say you are colluding with the warlocks, and they will not be happy about that. Not that this plan will make them happy even without that little addition.”

 

“Can’t you create the portals we need?” Alaric asked, frustration seeping into his voice.

 

Magnus shot him a sharp look. “ _ Some _ , certainly,” he said. “But not all. Not only have I not been to all the places that you would need to go, I have my own duties as a High Warlock separate from this venture.”

 

“Of course,” Luke said quickly. “But that is something we’ll need a solution to, if this is to work.”

 

Magnus twisted one of the rings on his finger thoughtfully. “I’ll see if there’s something I can do,” he said. “Catarina may have some ideas.”

 

Luke nodded and then stood, Alaric at his side. “Thank you for all your help Magnus,” he said.

 

An amused smile grew on Magnus’ face. “You’d be helpless without me, I know” he said with a flourish.

 

“Maybe not completely so,” Alaric hedged jokingly and Magnus let out a little huff of a laugh.

 

“Perhaps not,” he said. “Good luck on your side.”

 

“You too,” Luke said. 

 

“Stay safe, my friends,” Magnus said, his eyes dark as he followed the pair to the door. “As unimaginable as it seems, things just got more dangerous for both of you.”

 

“We’ll be careful,” Alaric said softly.

 

Luke squeezed Magnus’ shoulder and then let the heavy door of his loft shut behind them. His thoughts were full as they made their way down from the penthouse, so much so that he didn’t notice the ring of his phone until Alaric told him.

 

“Thanks,” Luke grunted to him as he pulled the phone from his pocket. As always when he saw the display name, confusing and conflicted feelings welled up.

 

Luke looked up and met Alaric’s concerned gaze. “Go on,” he said, and repeated the words when Alaric hesitated. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with you.”

 

Alaric finally nodded, and he was gone before Luke was ready for him to be. He took a deep breath as he finally answered the phone and put it up to his ear.

 

“Hello, Jocelyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get into some of that relationship drama, shall we?
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked this chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Maia couldn’t keep her eyes off her phone. It was becoming a problem. She was beginning to lose track of the amount of people who had come up to her and who had been halfway through their spiel by the time she even realized they were talking to her at all.

 

Some had noticed, some hadn’t. Thankfully, all the ones who did had simply shot her a sympathetic look and informed her that actually, they would be talking Alaric or Luke when they got back, sorry to bother her.

 

Once upon a time, that might have made Maia feel at least a little guilty; these were her pack members, after all. But, right now, she just couldn’t muster the emotion to. All of her emotional capability was going directly to worrying about Gretel and wondering and desperately hoping that she would call.

 

Maia would never begrudge her the time she needed to recover, of course. But it was impossible to just sit patiently and hope and pray. She had been like a thunder storm, full to the brim and crackling with nervous energy that arched through her like lightning.

 

And so, when Maia’s phone finally, finally buzzed, she leapt from her seat with the speed of a vampire. Her gasp was fully audible when she saw it  _ was _ , truly from Gretel, and she was sure it brought stares onto her back, but she could not care in the slightest. Without another thought, she was on four paws and running.

 

She slid through Magnus’ wards and shifted back in minutes, and barely heard Magnus as he called after her, “I’m going out, but I’ll snap some clothes in for you from your house,” as she charged passed.

 

Gretel’s long hair fluttered around her shoulders as she turned around like something out of the movies. The silver sparkled in the filtered sunlight that streamed through the window and if Maia hadn’t been away from her for so long, it might have been enough to stop her in her tracks.

 

As it was, she just flung herself closer to Gretel, until they were mere inches away. It took all her strength to stop before touching her, but she did, and the words fell out of her mouth, “can I? Can I?”

 

Gretel’s nod was like the first breath of air one took after almost drowning. Maia pulled her to her chest so fast it hurt, but the feeling of Gretel in her arms again and the sound of her soft, relieved sob made it so much more than worth it.

 

“I missed you so much,” Maia whispered as she smoothed a hand through Gretel’s soft hair.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gretel said softly as her hands clutches at Maia’s bare shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“No,” Maia said quickly, firmly. Part of her wanted to look into Gretel’s beautiful brown eyes as she said this, but she just couldn’t bring herself to let her go. Instead, she clutched her tighter. “No, please don’t be sorry. I want you to be health. I love you too much to hurt you.”

 

The words brought a lump to her throat as she furiously cast off memories. Now, Gretel gripped her tighter as she whispered, “you could never hurt me.”

 

That wasn’t true, Maia knew. Not in terms of the facts of the universe. But in the terms of love, respect, and trust, it was.

 

The press of bedsheets against her skin was always a comfort, but definitely not as much as the press of Gretel’s sleeping body curled up against her side. Magnus had been out the rest of the day, though he had indeed snapped a pair of Maia’s clothes into the bathroom, along with a silk robe that was definitely not hers, and a soft pair of pyjamas that still had their tags on them. Maia had long stopped being surprised by Magnus’ more than generous gift giving ways.

 

They had ended up having one of the most relaxing days they’d ever had together. Doing nothing but snuggling and eating and long, slow kissing and bathing together and watching their favorite tv shows curled up in fuzzy blankets. All the nervous energy had bled from Maia’s body, and was replaced with a lazy exhaustion. She couldn’t even remember where her phone was.

 

The outside world went quiet, just for a little while, and allowed her to just enjoy the love of her life.

 

\-- -- --

 

Luke shifted in place outside Jocelyn’s door. He felt distinctly like a teenager and he scowled at the thought. He hadn’t even been like this, especially not with Jocelyn,  _ as _ a teenager, and yet here he was, as grown ass man. He did not like it.

 

He knocked firmly on her door and it, thankfully, swung open not moments later. Jocelyn’s gaze met his hesitantly before she broke out in a smile.

 

“Luke,” she said, and she tried to keep her voice calm despite the excitement he could hear bubbling in it. Instantly, his annoyance melted away. “Please come in.”

 

Luke smiled back at her and nodded. He closed the door behind him as he stepped into her room.

 

Her room was spartan, even more so than what Luke knew the other rooms in the Institute were like, and in direct contrast to what Luke remembered her room had looked like before. A good half of her room had been purely devoted to art and even more of her walls had been too.

 

Even before they had been in love, Luke could remember staring at her walls and her art in awe. They had always been an incredible sight, and he and Valentine both had loved listening to her speak about her art.

 

Another thing Valentine had taken from them, from her. It made his heart ache.

 

Jocelyn sat on the side of her bed and as soon as Luke saw her expectant smile, he sat too. She chewed on her lip for a moment before she began to speak.

 

“I’m… sorry,” she said, finally. “About what I said. It was stupid and rude, and I wish I never said it.”

 

“I know,” Luke said. Despite her apology, the words themself weighed on him in a way he wasn’t sure he liked. “I accept your apology,” he said anyway.

 

All at once, Jocelyn relaxed and her smile grew all the wider. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m so glad. And, Luke,” she reached out and placed her hand on top of his, “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, recently. It’s horrible, what Valentine has been doing to you and your pack.”

 

Luke bobbed his head. “It is,” he said. “We’re trying to fight back, though.”

 

Jocelyn sat up straighter. “Are you?” she asked curiously. “How?”

 

“We’re trying to come up with a more concrete plan,” Luke said. “We were in the middle of that when you called, actually.”

 

Jocelyn blinked. “Oh,” she said. “Well, that’s good. Maybe I could help?”

 

Luke let out a little laugh. “Sorry,” he said. “But no. I can’t have you anywhere near this, let alone actually helping out.”

 

She pulled back and her brow furrowed. “What?” she asked, her lips twisting in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

Luke sighed. “I’m sorry Jocelyn,” he said. “But part of this plan depends on other werewolf packs. And the Alphas of other werewolf packs. All of them know I used to be a Shadowhunter and that I was part of the Circle, and some of them even remember what I did back then. The talks will probably be able to survive them learning about us, but they can’t see you actively helping out.”

 

“But I left the Circle  _ with _ you,” Jocelyn said, her voice growing louder. “I fought against Valentine during the Uprising!”

 

“That’s true,” Luke said. “And I don’t think it’s fair for them to not acknowledge that. But you’re still a Shadowhunter. Even if you weren’t in the Circle and weren’t Valentine’s wife, that might be enough to collapse talks anyway, if they found out you were involved.”

 

Jocelyn huffed and crossed her arms. “I don’t see why you need them, anyway,” she said. “If they’re going to judge you, judge  _ us _ this harshly, don’t you think you should find another solution? We almost stopped Valentine back then, we can do it again.”

 

Luke pushed himself off the bed. “I almost died during the Uprising,” he snapped. “And I deserve to be judged for the things I did in the Circle, and the things I did as a Shadowhunter. I wouldn’t want to work with them if they didn’t judge me for those things.”

 

Her lips thinned. “Why don’t we talk about this more?” she asked. “I’m sure, in time, we could come up with a better solution.”

 

Luke shook his head furiously. “No,” he said. “You don’t understand. There is no more time, and there is no other solution. We’ve been through this, all of us. This is our only option.”

 

“Who?” Jocelyn asked. “Alaric? Maia? Gretel? Didn’t they almost betray you?”

 

“Magnus, for one,” Luke said sharply and Jocelyn looked away. “And Gretel almost died,” he bit out. “You have no right to judge her or any of the others. They were right to do what they did. I wasn’t focusing on my pack.”

 

“You were focusing on my daughter!” Jocelyn yelled as she stood, too. “ _ Our _ daughter.”

 

All his energy left Luke all at once. “Clary isn’t the only one I think of as a daughter, Jocelyn,” he said. “My pack, they’re my family. I forgot that, and I don’t blame them for being scared for it.”

 

“ _ We’re _ your family,” Jocelyn said.

 

“Not my only one,” Luke said.

 

SHe sighed. “Okay,” she said, her voice hard. “Okay, I’m sorry. If you really trust them.”

 

“With my life,” Luke said and he could hear the anger in his voice. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go.”

 

Jocenly nodded, once, and turned away. Luke closed the door harder than he should have on the way out and nearly ran directly into Clary.

 

She had been staring at Jocelyn’s door, wide eyed, but she fixed that gaze on Luke instead. Luke blinked.

 

“Oh,” he said. “Um, Clary. Hi.”

 

“Hi, Luke,” she choked out. What little color there was in her cheeks had completely drained out of them. She entirely looked like a deer caught in the head lights.

 

“Were you… looking for Jocelyn?” he asked as he tried to not let the awkwardness overwhelm him.

 

Clary, nodded, and suddenly that stunned look she had was mildly hilarious. Firmly, Luke clamped down on that thought. He needed a nice, hot cup of tea. Probably several, actually.

 

“Um,” Clary said. “I’m going to go say hi to her. My mom, I mean.”

 

“Right,” Luke said and he stepped out of the way. “I was just going, anyway.”

 

He was halfway down the hall before Clary shouted his name. When he turned, her stunned look was gone and instead, the edge of her lips trembled just slightly.

 

“I’ll see you around,” she said. “Right?”

 

Luke’s heart felt heavy, but he managed a smile that was wholly real. “Of course kiddo,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

\-- -- --

 

Isabelle’s mouth grew dry and the walls of the booth she sat at closed around her. Maia swung the door open, a triumphant smile on her face.

 

“Look who’s back,” she said loudly, and no one could mistake the pride in her voice.

 

Gretel sauntered through the door like they had planned the entire thing, a smile to match Maia’s tugging at her lips. In response to the silence that echoed through the Jade Wolf, she spread her hands wide, and suddenly, the entire room was filled with noise.

 

Werewolves shot to their feet, grins of relief on their faces and words of welcoming on their lips. They crowded around Gretel and Maia, and their entire demeanor told tales of a time happier, reflected in a time of strife. They were more cheerful than Izzy ever remembered them being, and she could not help but feel glad for it.

 

Maia’s laughed rung around the Jade Wolf and it made Izzy’s chest tighten. She watched as Maia reached out and pulled Gretel close to her side just to press a kiss to the hairline on the side of her head. Gretel’s responding laugh was more quiet, but rang no less clearly.

 

Izzy gripped the side of the table so tightly her fingers began to tremble and ache. Never before had she so badly wanted to disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upcoming: Politics
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment if you liked this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> There's less Luke than I would like in this chapter. Gretel kind of took it over and as dirty as she was done in the show, I completely let her. Don't worry; this will absolutely not be a trend. Well, the focusing and love to Gretel will be... the lack of Luke will not.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter of the third part of this series! If you did, please leave a comment below. Thanks for reading!


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